


Under the surface

by cutiesonthehorizon



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Procedures, Post-Season/Series 02, Whump Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 14:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14896263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutiesonthehorizon/pseuds/cutiesonthehorizon
Summary: Tomas and Marcus have reunited and continue to fight demons and help people. However, there are unresolved things lurking under the surface. When Tomas gets injured, it's up to Marcus to save him and restore the fragile trust between them. Written for the Whump Exchange.





	Under the surface

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whumpee](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=whumpee).



> This fic was written for the May Whump Exchange. My recipient is whumpee. This is purely a h/c fic, for obvious reasons :D I'd like to thank Allie and several others from the Whumpshire discord community who were all very helpful in giving me medical advice. Also want to thank vshendria who cheered me on and provided great beta reading services. All mistakes, whether grammar or medical left behind are of course mine:) I hope you'll still enjoy the story.

Tomas was tired. Not only in body but also in mind, and he was starting to get affected by it. Marcus might've had the luxury of a six month sabbatical, but Tomas didn't. He spent those six months apart from Marcus consumed by guilt and pain over the loss of his friend, all the while being trained like a soldier by Mouse. They didn't get a moment's break, going from one possession to another, being led on a wild goose chase for lower level demons, until they figured out that Bennett was actually integrated and was just using them to do his bidding, whatever the purpose.

Once they figured that out, Mouse became a bloodhound with a scent, her only mission to find Bennett. Tomas, by her side, was led by guilt of his earlier failures, the hope that maybe he could save Bennett and also by anger at being used once again as a puppet of some higher force. Those were of course all the wrong reasons, clouding both Tomas's and Mouse's minds. It was no wonder they managed to walk right into a trap. During the bloody fight that ensued Mouse was lost and Tomas would have quickly followed if not for Marcus. Once again he owed his continued existence to the man. Bennett escaped of course.

Tomas mourned Mouse's death, while struggling once again with guilt... guilt over letting her die, guilt at feeling thankful and happy to have Marcus back by his side. Those feelings were so opposed to each other that for a while Tomas simply shut them down. It wasn't that hard, after all. Marcus seemed to feel the same awkwardness between them, Mouse's ghost prominent on both their minds while they were also aware of what Bennett's integration meant to the mission. It was not good.

The fact that Marcus was brought back by God gave Tomas hope but at the same time left some small feeling of anger festering deep inside. Because Tomas couldn't help but wonder if Marcus would've ever returned if not for God.

For his part, Marcus kept silent about his six months and after several tries, Tomas stopped pestering him. In return, he rarely talked about his time spent with Mouse. It would've seemed awkward under normal circumstances, but theirs were anything but normal. They didn't really have time to brood about what happened or where they were heading now. God was a hard worker and Tomas kept getting visions of new cases.

He was grateful to Mouse in one thing. She taught him how to be efficient. How to connect with the victim, find the hole in the demon's armor and pull the victim back to the surface, doing an internal exorcism, while Mouse was helping from the outside. Of course it was never as easy and quick as it was with Marcus. Ever since they reunited, Tomas noted the change in Marcus. His faith was back; he had that inner strength and seemed a bit more whole. Unlike Tomas, who felt more broken.

It must've been God who helped bring them back together and Marcus now seemed rejuvenated. Tomas was secretly jealous. Marcus had God's voice and strength... Tomas only had violent visions and the satisfaction at the end of the exorcism from a job done, a soul saved. But both God and Marcus were working him relentlessly. If it wasn't a vision, Marcus drove them towards their next case. They never knew where they were heading, but without fail, once Tomas got a vision they were already on the right track. It was as if God was leading them on a journey across the continent, and they just had to follow. Tomas swore he felt like the Israelites who were led by Moses through the desert for forty years to find the Promised Land. Always a goal in mind, but never really knowing when or where they would reach it or what awaited them.

Well, this time the vision brought them to a small town in Connecticut. The victim was a fifty-five-year-old owner of a shop with tires who was acting out of the ordinary. His wife first contacted the Church, but for some reason the local priest denied that it was possession and pointed her towards the nearest psychiatrist, dismissing the case. Or at least that was how it looked. Tomas and Marcus didn't care. They hadn't come on the priest's call; they had come because Tomas' vision brought them there. Unfortunately, the wife listened to the psychiatrist who diagnosed her husband with schizophrenia and put him on medication, which only served to make the demon's access to the body easier.

Tomas and Marcus were trying to figure out how to get access to the husband and at least check him out when they met Rena, the man's half-sister. Unlike his wife, Rena didn't believe Eric was schizophrenic, as she happened to be in the room during one of the moments the demon presented itself. She took one look at Tomas's priest collar and almost sobbed in relief. With her help Tomas managed to get a few minutes with Eric and assess that he was indeed possessed. Afterwards it took a bit of foul play, but Tomas and Marcus, with Rena's help managed to "kidnap" Eric from the hospital he was kept in for observation. They could also thank Rena for pointing them to the place they were currently located, hidden from the world and the search party.

It was an old, abandoned garage on a side road several miles outside of the city limits. The side road become obsolete once the highway was built and the garage was vacated. But it was the first place Eric had worked at. He had some emotional connection to it according to Rena and of course, it was empty, allowing them a place to conduct the exorcism.

Maybe Tomas wasn't hiding his weariness as well as he thought, however. Before they could start the exorcism, Marcus pulled him outside for a quick word.

"I don't want you to engage with the demon this time."

Tomas frowned, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't go into that thing's head," Marcus said, his eyes adamant even as Tomas opened his mouth to protest. "Look, I know you want to lose yourself in the job after what happened with Mouse. But I can see the toll. You barely sleep and-"

"Since when is that a problem?" Tomas snapped and Marcus raised an eyebrow as if saying he had just proved his point. Tomas felt a blush creep onto his face.

"I'm not criticizing you, Tomas. But we did the last three exorcisms your way. I think..." Marcus shook his head, putting a calming hand on Tomas's shoulder. "You're tired. And the demon might use it against us if we're not careful. I can't help you when you're inside, Tomas."

_'I don't need help, I can handle it myself,'_ was what Tomas wanted to retort, feeling a bit hurt and offended, even though Marcus was practically repeating his earlier thoughts. But then he felt a sudden twitch in his right shoulder and he was hit by the memory of the demon biting him in Andy's house... how he was trapped in the false vision while Andy and the family were fighting for their lives. Maybe Marcus had a point. He'd been tired then too, had fallen asleep and let the demon come inside. He wasn't willing to make the same mistake again. So instead of lashing out, he gave a meek nod.

"Okay, we do it your way. For now."

That had been two days ago. Now they were in the middle of the rite, Eric's body tensing and contorting on the working table that was bolted down to the floor, his arms straining under the ties as he spit curses at Marcus and taunted Tomas with words about Mouse.

"She's in a better place now, don't worry, Little Cub. Me and my kind are enjoying ripping her soul into pieces," the demon drawled, smacking his lips, then wailed as Marcus sprayed him with drops of holy water, the exorcist's voice rising in the rite. Tomas tried to ignore the words and the sick feeling in his gut and gripped his bible harder, his own voice louder.

_"I command you, unclean spirit, whoever you are, along with all your minions now attacking this servant of God, by the mysteries of the incarnation, passion, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ,"_ Marcus shouted and Tomas could feel the energy coming off of him. Tomas let him take the lead, knowing this was it, that _God_ was with Marcus right now and that they might finally be able to rid Eric of the evil spirit. Maybe without the need for Tomas to dwell inside the demon's mind after all.

_"-by the descent of the Holy Spirit, by the coming of our Lord for judgment, that you tell me by some sign your name, and the day and hour of your departure."_ Marcus was now standing mere inches from the man straining on the table whose teeth were gnashing at already bleeding lips, and Tomas noted the shaking of the walls, rattling of old cabinets. They had moved anything that could be moved out of the garage, bolted down everything else. Still, there was a strange screeching noise and Tomas looked away from Eric and Marcus, trying to find the source. He felt the hair on the back of his neck raise as he noted something moving in the steel doors of the garage. It looked almost...

_"I command you, moreover, to obey me to the letter, I who am a minister of God despite my unworthiness-"_ Marcus kept going, unaware.

_"You got that one right, you unworthy son of a whore!"_ the demon spat with a sick chuckle and a bloody wad of spit landed on the floor near Marcus' feet. He didn't pause though, aware of the demon's increased agitation, the body now contorting into the most uncomfortable positions. Only a bit more... and Eric could be free.

But there wasn't more time, as Tomas saw the long sharp screws in the steel door sliding out of their hold, turning in the air and shooting straight at Marcus. It was basic instinct that made him utter Marcus' name in warning, even as he was jumping in the way, covering the older man with his own body and throwing them both on the ground as several rusty screws flew through the air.

Tomas felt the pain even as he was hitting the floor with Marcus beneath him cushioning his fall. He let out a pained grunt but didn't move from his position until he heard the screws hit the opposite wall with dull thuds and the demon's screeching laugh.

"Tomas?" Marcus scrambled out from beneath Tomas with a grunt, the fall on the hard floor kicking the breath out of him as well as causing several new bruises. Tomas wasn't a lightweight either.

"I'm okay," Tomas said with choked breath as well and rolled aside, before clutching at the source of pain.

"What the hell?" Marcushadn't seen the threat in time and only now put two and two together. He also noted the drops of blood on Tomas's hand that was now cradling his right forearm, the pained grimace on his face loud and clear.

"You okay?" Tomas asked, already sitting up and giving Marcus an appraising look. Marcus rolled his eyes in disbelief and growing anger.

"Not a scratch on same can't be said for you." Marcus nodded towards Tomas hand, his voice turning irritated. He couldn't help it... the feel of Tomas on top of him laying motionless for a few seconds had scared him to death and Marcus didn't handle fear well. "What the hell were you thinking?"

„What?" Tomas blinked, taken aback by the angry tone, even as Marcus took his arm in his and inspected the damage. He couldn't see all that much because of Tomas' dark shirt, but he could see the wound wasn't gushing blood.

The screw hadn't hit an artery and Tomas was relieved by that, even though Marcus manipulating the arm and trying to see the damage hurt like hell. Tomas hissed and Marcus let go of his arm.

"You need to stop playing the hero, Tomas," Marcus said with a somehow resigned tone. Tomas bristled at the implication, but before he could retort something, the demon drawled.

"Aw, a young cub trying to protect an old and useless lion, how adorable!" There was a chuckle and Marcus' eyes turned cold. He helped Tomas to his feet and not so gently pushed him towards the door.

"Go take care of that arm," Marcus said in a commanding tone and Tomas frowned.

"We need to finish this," he protested but Marcus shook his head.

"It might take few more hours. Clean and wrap it. I don't need to be distracted by watching you bleed all over the place," Marcus said, a fleeting look of regret over the choice of words appearing on his face, but Tomas didn't notice.

Tomas knew Marcus was right, but he still felt as if he had just been reprimanded for saving the man's life. It didn't sit well with him, but he pushed back the feeling as the demon seemed to take notice and started taunting Tomas.

"Is Father Tomas being sent to the bench? Just when I was starting to enjoy his presence!" The demon pouted and Marcus threw one last imploring glance at Tomas.

"Go."

Then he turned back to Eric and started the rite of exorcism all over again, while Tomas sulkily left the garage.

His first thought was to find some source of running water, but after two days at the place Tomas knew there was none. They were all living on Tomas' latest supply run, which consisted of bottled water and some snacks and canned food. However, they were running out of stock pretty fast. He went to their car, trying to ignore the drops of blood he was leaving on the dusty floor. It wasn't like anyone cared anyway, the place was a mess. Tomas pulled their first aid kit out from under the seat and cursed. They had been so focused on the job that they'd forgotten to fill it up. There was a half empty bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a bunch of bandages, but really nothing else. With a sigh, Tomas gently rolled up the shredded sleeve of his black shirt, grimacing at the sight of the rather deep wound with jagged edges. He thought he saw a bit of the shirt embedded in the wound and with a curse and a hiss he managed to pull it out, hoping there was nothing else. The wound was in an awkward place, on the outer side of his forearm, about three inches long and too close to the elbow for Tomas's comfort. It was also not that easy to take a proper look at it and after a moment of squinting that just made him feel more woozy, Tomas gave up.

He poured the bottle of water on the wound, washing off some of the blood and hopefully dirt, then with gritted teeth poured the rest of their hydrogen peroxide on it as well. For a moment Tomas fought the urge to throw up as the pain made him not only recount all of the Saints' names but possibly also their faces. Taking several deep breaths, Tomas awkwardly opened a package of gauze, putting it on the seat of the car, then applied a dressing to the wound. It would have been much easier if Marcus could have placed the bandage on his arm, but Tomas was too proud to go back in and ask for help, especially with the demon still there, wreaking havoc on Eric's body. He gritted his teeth and stubbornly, awkwardly put on the bandage, hissing at the tightness but hoping it would at least stop the bleeding.

Rolling the ripped sleeve back down over the bandage, Tomas took a second to just get his breath and pull his thoughts together. Marcus's reaction had irritated him and he needed to clear his head before returning to the room with the demon, lest the demon sniff it out.

Tomas and Marcus still needed to get used to working with each other... Tomas had gotten used to Mouse being less caring, more cynical and job focused. Had the same thing happened in her company, she would've brushed off the dust, threatened the demon with some holy water injection and glared at Tomas to get the job finished.

While during those times Tomas had greatly missed the caring character of Marcus, it was also a bit of a relief. At least in moments where they were in the presence of a demon. Mouse never behaved towards him as if he was a child... he was always a soldier to her, a gun to be used. Nothing else. Of course, once they were done with the job, taking a rest in a cheap motel room or in the car parked somewhere off road, beaten and stinking from sweat and blood, Tomas would have much preferred Marcus's good-natured humor and honest concern.

With a sigh, Tomas realized he was just putting off the inevitable, that he was losing precious time sulking like a child. But he hadn't been a child for a long time now and he also wasn't a novice in the business of exorcism, both Marcus and Mouse had made sure of that. So squaring his shoulders, Tomas strode back to the garage with sure steps, knowing what he needed to do.

Marcus was just leaning over Eric, checking the straps tying his arms as his latest attempt seemed to have loosened one of them. Marcus gave Tomas a quick questioning look, which was answered by a short nod. The demon turned its attention towards Tomas the minute he stepped in.

"Ah, the little cub has licked his wounds and come back to play with us," the demon drawled, a wide smile splitting the corner of already abused lips without him noticing. "How delightful!"

Tomas walked right up to the table and give an imploring look to Marcus, who frowned.

"It's time to skip the pleasantries," Tomas said, his voice hard and steady. He could see a protest already forming on Marcus' lips, but he ignored it in lieu of grabbing Eric's face. His eyes turned white and Marcus could only curse and resume prayers in hope they would help Tomas's work.

 

* * *

 

Tomas was gone for over an hour, but when he returned to reality, it was with a half conscious Eric and no sign of the demon. He felt exhausted but also filled with adrenaline, as was typical for a successful exorcism, especially one where he had delved into the mind of the possessed. It had taken him some time to locate Eric and to lead him back to safety and hearing Marcus steadily praying from somewhere behind the veil had helped immensely with the process. Now Tomas gave Eric's arm a reassuring squeeze and took a step back, feeling his legs wobble after being locked for so long in one position. He leaned against the nearby wall and let Marcus do the checking. Eric's eyes were clear and he didn't react to the holy water or the crucifix. He was even able to answer a question or two before succumbing to exhaustion and his ailing body. Satisfied, Marcus untied his arms and legs and tried to make the man as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.

"You okay?" Marcus asked, finally looking up at Tomas who just gave him a tired nod. He was usually more active, but the exhaustion of the last few days - nay months **-** was catching up with him. Not to mention the throbbing in his arm which he had just now noticed. He grimaced at the feeling of wet bandage but was happy it was hidden under the shirt for now. He knew Marcus would insist on taking care of that if he knew, but right now their priority was Eric and Tomas didn't want to change that. So Tomas brushed off the question as unimportant.

"Call Rena or an ambulance?" Tomas asked instead. He always felt bad when they had to leave their charge in a hurry and without a chance for a proper follow up, but at least Eric had a sister he could count on. Tomas would make sure she got in touch with a priest who would offer a bit more help than the local one had.

"Rena. He seems stable enough, if she can drive him to the hospital herself, we won't have to worry about cops that much."

Tomas just nodded and listened to Marcus dial the sister and tell her the good news. He was smiling, most probably hearing the relief on the other end of the call, but Tomas noted a sudden frown appearing on Marcus's face. Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, he listened to Marcus's questions and with each one he felt like his gut dropped a notch. Finally Marcus ended the call, all traces of relief from the successful exorcism gone from his face. Instead there was worry and apprehension and the look Tomas came long ago to associate with the gears turning in Marcus's head.

"What's wrong?" Tomas asked as soon as Marcus put away the phone, pushing away from the wall and heading towards the older man.

"We need to move."

"Why?" Of course Tomas knew they needed to leave town, people were looking for Eric after all, but that wasn't news, definitely not something Marcus would be this worried about.

"Some people from the Vatican visited Eric's wife, asking about us. They went after Rena too, but she managed to put them off our trail, for now. But we don't have much time."

Tomas nodded, understanding what it meant. They would have to leave Eric and hightail it out of there and possibly spend the next ten hours on the road, trying to get as far away as they could before Bennett's people caught up with them. Grimacing at the prospect, Tomas was already thinking which way they should go, even though Marcus usually took the lead.

"Is Rena coming here?"

"She'll give us about a half an hour head start. They might not follow her, but we can't risk waiting around."

Tomas nodded and left the garage. He hated leaving Eric unattended in such a state but they really didn't have a choice. The least he could do was bring him their last bottle of water and the blanket they had in the trunk, to keep him warm until his sister arrived. Once this was done, Marcus gently woke up Eric and explained that his sister was on the way; that he just needed to stay still and wait. The man seemed scared at first of being left alone, begged them to stay, but exhaustion once again claimed him and he fell asleep. Tomas said a quick prayer of protection for him, pulled the blanket higher up to his chin and with a regretful glance followed Marcus back to their car.

The following few hours were hectic and both men were stressed. Marcus kept looking into the rear-view mirror, expecting at any moment to see someone speeding behind them or a glint of a gun. There was a moment when Tomas noted a car keeping close to them even after several turns, but when Marcus made an unsignalled turn, the car sped by without slowing down. They let out a collective sigh of relief and continued on to the next town. It was about an hour later when Marcus's phone buzzed a text alert. Marcus pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to Tomas, not wanting to pull his eyes off the road. He was still too strung out by the idea of Bennett's people finding them. It was one thing to fight demons, it was something different to try and dodge actual bullets.

Tomas took the phone in his left hand, trying to ignore the way his injured arm twitched at every movement.

"It's a text from Rena," Tomas said, earning an impatient look from Marcus when instead of reading it out loud he squinted at the small screen. He was starting to get a headache and he missed his reading glasses that had been left behind at one of the motels.

"What does she say?"

"Eric is safely in the hospital, the doctor says he should be okay."

Marcus nodded, the relief apparent in the slouch of his shoulders. Tomas knew it wouldn't last long though.

"She didn't see the two guys, but Eric's wife hinted that she gave them the description of our car."

Marcus cursed. That meant one more problem, one more lead. They had to ditch the car as soon as possible and get another one from a different dealer. Their best bet was to stop in a larger town.

"Pull out the map," Marcus said with a sigh and Tomas complied, trying to ignore the painful twinges in his arm. Now was definitely not the time to stop and lose time with taking care of that. Once he started going over the map with Marcus and something akin to a plan formed in their minds, Tomas pushed the thoughts about his arm to the background as a matter to be solved later. Marcus didn't bring it up either so it was easy to pretend nothing had even happened, especially as the next few hours were spent by changing cars and getting back on the road.

Only once Tomas was settled back in the passenger seat of their new (rather old, but still working) car did he notice the fact he was starting to feel crappy. Not just the usual tired after a hard day crap, but rather the skin crawling sensation of the flu. He really hoped that wouldn't be the case however. Feeling a bit hot, and trying to get the smell of cigarette smoke out of the car, Tomas wondered how the 80-year-old old lady selling the car looked way healthier than Tomas felt, while she was practically lighting one cigarette after the other? Where was the justice in that?

The ride was silent, Marcus fiddling with the radio. Tomas wanted to ask where they were heading, because it was obvious Marcus once again had a place in mind, but he didn't feel like pestering the older man. He seemed to be still a bit pissed over the fact Tomas had ignored their previous agreement to keep out of the demon's head. But his arm was feeling more and more uncomfortable. Tomas kept fidgeting on his seat, until Marcus finally seemed to have enough.

"Do you need me to stop for a bathroom break or what?"

Tomas almost snapped back a no, but thought better of it. A bathroom break would give him a chance to re-wrap the arm and maybe get some aspirin to battle the flu.

"Yeah, actually. I could also use something to drink."

Marcus grunted, his own lips parched and the idea of coffee, even from a gas station, sounded too appealing to dismiss. He parked the car at the nearest gas station, getting ready to go for that coffee when Tomas stopped him.

"I'll grab it for you. Maybe better if they don't see both of us?"

Marcus frowned a bit but didn't argue. If Tomas didn't want him to shadow him, he could use the five minutes to have the smoke he was dying for since they had finished the exorcism.

"Grab me the strongest one they have," he called after Tomas as he was about to close the car door. Tomas nodded and vanished hastily inside the gas station.

First thing he went for was the pharmacy aisle. He grabbed two bottles of [disinfectant and] some new bandages, then grabbed several bottles of water because they were out of that as well. He passed the aisles with snacks and paused. He wasn't hungry at all, rather the opposite. There was that lingering feeling of oncoming illness and food was the last thing on his mind. But Marcus needed some energy too. Maybe with a snack the older man would relax a bit. So Tomas grabbed some chips and candy and added it to the purchase. Once the items were paid for he ventured towards the bathroom, taking a second to just lean against the cold porcelain of the sink, before he rolling up his shirt sleeve, a bit shakily.

He grimaced at the sight of the dirty bandage stained with dried up blood. There was no way around it; Tomas unrolled the bandage, hissing and cursing as the dried blood tugged at the wound and caused the wound to bleed a bit again. The sight of it wasn't pretty and for a fleeting second Tomas thought that maybe he should tell Marcus and ask him to give it a proper look. The wound was in a place that, while not hard to reach, was hard to clean properly. Not to mention he felt like throwing up at the sight of the ragged edges and raw meat underneath. Tomas wasn't usually the squeamish type, but seeing the wound made him realize just how much it hurt. He opened the bottle with the disinfectant and poured a hefty amount on the wound, hissing and biting his lip at the sting. He was instantly covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat.

Tomas quickly wrapped the arm, grimacing. He splashed his face with cold water, reveling in the feeling before turning to exit. At least he remembered to pick up Marcus's coffee, sure that if he came back empty-handed the older man would instantly realize something was wrong. Or maybe just give him a lecture about being irresponsible... again.

"Took your time," were the first words out of Marcus's mouth as Tomas handed him his cup of coffee and some chips. He gritted his teeth, for some reason irritated even just by the tone. Without a word, Tomas put the rest of his shopping on the back seat and buckled up, grimacing a bit as he jostled his arm against the door. Marcus must've been paying more attention to him than he expected.

"You okay?" he asked and Tomas felt a blush creep on his face, suddenly ashamed. He didn't understand why he was all over the place these last few days where Marcus was concerned. It was as if there was a small wound hidden somewhere really deep and every time the man said something the words picked at the scab. But Tomas wasn't willing to focus on that right now.

"Yeah, fine," he answered a bit offhandedly, then sniffed at the air, frowning. "Were you smoking in here?" he asked with suspicion. Marcus just shrugged.

"Like I said, you took your time. Not like the car can smell worse than it does now."

"Well, certainly not with you adding to the problem," Tomas grumbled as Marcus turned on the engine, drowning out his protest.

They spent a few more hours on the road and the atmosphere in the car grew thicker by the minute. Tomas kept fidgeting in his seat, glaring daggers at Marcus each time he changed the radio station until he just reached out and turned off the radio altogether.

Marcus wasn't feeling very generous either. He was tired and all he wanted was a bed, but the thought of Bennett's people behind them made him push on. When Tomas started grumbling that perhaps it was time to stop, Marcus was inclined to agree, though not without an irritated comment of his own.

"Don't know what you're complaining about, you can sleep in the car just the same." Obviously, Tomas didn't take too well to that.

"I'm not the one who doesn't want me behind the wheel!"

"Well, pardon me if I don't want to end up having an accident because you let some demon play with your head."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Tomas bristled. It wasn't like he chose the time for the visions to come and Marcus damn well knew that.

"I thought we agreed on you not getting into Eric's head. Instead you storm back on a high horse and plunge in, without a word."

"It's not like we had all that much time, seeing someone was already looking for us," Tomas retorted angrily.

"But you didn't know about that Tomas, or did you?" Marcus protested.

"What difference does it make? We finished the exorcism, just in time."

"The difference is you were in for too long!" Marcus let out, showing worry mixed with rage. The fact that Tomas just rolled his eyes at him like a sulky teenager didn't make Marcus' mood any better.

"Like you care," Tomas muttered under his breath and Marcus blinked, unsure if he heard right.

"What?" he snapped and Tomas looked at him at least a bit sheepishly.

"Nothing. Why don't we find a motel? I think we're far enough now. I could really use a shower."

Marcus gave a sharp nod, his mind still stuck on Tomas's last comment. He was just about done with the tension that was between them and swore that as soon as they got some decent sleep and food, they would talk. Maybe they were both just too tired to think clearly.

He kept looking for a motel with a vacancy sign, getting more and more irritated by Tomas's restless behavior. The younger man was bumping his feet in some unheard rhythm, constantly fidgeting on the seat and each time Marcus asked what was wrong he delivered a more snappish "nothing".

By the time they booked a room and grabbed their stuff, Marcus was just about fed up. The slam of the car door that rattled the glass in their windows as Tomas grabbed his bag was just the cherry on top. When they finally entered the room, Marcus decided he'd had enough.

"What the hell's gotten into you, Tomas?" Marcus exclaimed the moment he shut the door. Tomas dropped his duffel on one of the beds, doing his best to ignore Marcus. It wasn't that hard... his head was throbbing in rhythm with the wound on his arm. His whole body hurt and it felt like the flu or whatever virus he'd managed to catch had successfully taken over his body. The exertion of the exorcism combined with the stress of the last few hours made him utterly miserable. The fact that Marcus kept berating him during the ride didn't help and Tomas knew if he kept it up, something would snap. Most likely him.

"I'm talking to you, Tomas!" Marcus also didn't seem to be in a great mood and Tomas ignoring him just pissed him off even more.

"Just leave me the hell alone, Marcus," Tomas growled, spinning around. "I've had enough of the lectures. I'm not a damn kid!"

"Maybe if you stopped sulking like one we could have a proper talk instead of a shouting match!"

Tomas gritted his teeth, Marcus's voice suddenly grating on his brain like fingernails on a blackboard, each word just making his heart pumping faster and the sick feeling in his stomach grow.

"I was just trying to save your ass," Tomas growled, his voice low, both hurt and annoyed. "Who knows why, because you're acting like a jerk."

Maybe it was a poor choice of words, or maybe Marcus was just too tired himself after being so long behind the wheel. Whatever the reason, the normally cool man stepped right into Tomas's personal space, face so close Tomas could smell the nicotine from his last cigarette on his breath.

"Maybe for once you should stop being a self sacrificing idiot. I thought the last two years had taught you something, but obviously I was mistaken," Marcus said heatedly and even though there wasn't that much of a height difference between them, Tomas suddenly felt as if Marcus was towering over him. He felt a wave of heat fueling his rage, a bit of desperation at feeling cornered adding the final straw. Tomas took a step forward, using his arms to bodily push Marcus away.

"If the last year taught me something it was that you take off every time things go south."

"Well maybe if you weren't so hell bent on giving up your soul every time a demon waved, I wouldn't have had to pull that trigger and leave."

Tomas eyes widened, face turning crimson. Marcus realized he might've said too much and maybe he should step back from the situation or leave for a moment and give both of them a chance to calm down. As if sensing his intentions though, Tomas sank his teeth into the last comment.

"Oh right, so you would just leave the dirty job for someone else, like Mouse. Right? Always taking the easy way out?" Tomas said with disdain and Marcus felt like he had just been stabbed in the stomach. He stepped forward, back into Tomas's space.

"Don't push it," Marcus growled. "Don't put Andy on me. You let that thing in, despite my warning." Marcus emphasized this by jabbing a finger into Tomas's chest. The jab wasn't hard, but it shook Tomas and sent a spike of pain through his arm.

"Stop it," he hissed warningly, but Marcus was on a roll.

"You thought sacrificing your own soul like the damn martyr you are would fix anything?!" Another jab and Tomas shook his head, clenching his fists.

"I didn't tell you to kill him!" Tomas shouted and Marcus was right in his face.

"You asked me to bring you back!" Marcus shouted and Tomas couldn't hold it back anymore. All the rage, the pain and anger of the last year, everything he had pushed back each day since Marcus returned... One second he was standing still, seething; the next he just felt the impact of his fist in Marcus's face. It was his bad arm and the impact resonated, sending pain through his whole body, but Tomas didn't care. He didn't see the look of surprise on Marcus's face as he stumbled back from the punch, one hand touching the cheek that would be bruised by morning. The fight was gone from Marcus, as if someone had turned off a switch or thrown a bucket of ice on him. But Tomas didn't see that; he wasn't thinking clearly. All his senses were screaming for attention and his body felt like on fire, yet the only thing in his mind were those words.

"You fucking bastard! How dare you? Do you think I'm not blaming myself?" Tomas shouted, not caring if any neighbors heard them. "I was there... I saw what that demon did to Andy. I saw what that demon did to all those children! I felt all those deaths in my own skin, but none of that even compared to the wrongness of that demon trying to take my soul. The moment it touched me..." Tomas lost all color in his face, even just the memory perking up the nausea.

"I knew I made a mistake, that nothing would make this right, not even God. But I couldn't stop it. Do you think I don't feel thankful to you for saving me? I will never feel clean again, but by God, I owe you everything for doing what you did. And the next thing I know you just up and leave? How the hell was I supposed to pay back that debt if you left?" By the end Tomas' voice faded into a choked whisper.

Marcus was speechless. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out and it only added to Tomas's rage. There were tears in Tomas's eyes, but he was still fuelled by the anger and desperation and maybe something more. He closed the distance between them, staring into Marcus's eyes from mere inches away, seething as he pushed against him.

"And now you're in my face for trying to repay at least something. How fucking dare you?" It was like he was asking for a fight, for Marcus to swing back at him, but Marcus recognized the tactic.. He didn't want to fight anymore and raised his arms, placating, even as Tomas once again pushed at his chest.

"Stop it, Tomas," he hissed, but Tomas couldn't.

"Why? Why the hell should I listen to you? I'm just a fucking disappointment anyway. I mess up again and you'll leave again, but this time there's no one else I can be left with, is there?"

"For God's sake, shut up and calm down!" Marcus grabbed the arm that was jabbing at his chest and in a swift move spun Tomas around, twisting his arm and using it as leverage to pin the younger man against the wall. He just wanted to stop him from attacking, to give him a chance to talk, but something was wrong. The moment Marcus grabbed the arm and twisted it, Tomas choked back a yelp. It was good that Marcus had pinned him against the wall, because his knees went weak and he would've most probably crashed to the floor otherwise.

Marcus knew they were in trouble when he felt Tomas sag in his arms, the pained moan ringing in his ears more than the sound of the punch a moment ago. He quickly adjusted his hold, letting Tomas's arm slip from his fingers, but not before he felt the bandage under the shirt, wet and sticky even through the black shirt. He turned Tomas so the younger man was now leaning his back against the wall. Marcus took his first proper look at Tomas and what he saw made his blood run cold. His eyes were unfocused, most of his face pale, but his cheeks were flushed from fever. Marcus didn't understand how he hadn't noticed it sooner.

"Fuck Tomas, why the hell didn't you say something?!" Anger once again colored his voice.

"You just told me to shut up!" Tomas snapped back and Marcus ran a tired hand over his face. He swore it was like dealing with a two-year-old throwing a tantrum.

"About your arm, you idiot! Did you even clean it out?"

"Of course, with all the first aid kit and a half bottle of water could offer," Tomas grumbled back and slackened against the wall as he pulled in the injured appendage and cradled it against his chest. The fire left him the moment he saw the concern in Marcus eyes. His brain was muddy and he couldn't even remember why they had started fighting, but he could see the blooming bruise on Marcus's cheek and felt the pang of guilt.

Marcus gave him an exasperated look and pointed towards the table and chair.

"Sit down," Marcus ordered and headed to the bathroom. He found an ice-bucket, so he grabbed it and put in some water and a bit of the liquid soap the motel provided. Grabbing the cleanest looking towel he could find, Marcus returned to the room and found that Tomas at least had the grace to listen to him now. Or maybe he just sat down because he couldn't make it to the bed. Marcus cursed at himself for being so blinded by his own emotions that he forgot to ask about Tomas's arm.

He started digging through the first aid kit that was in his bag and found that the disinfectant was indeed missing. Another curse escaped his lips.

"I bought some at the gas station," Tomas muttered and nodded towards his own bag dejectedly, while Marcus dug out the supplies. He wanted to say a million things, most of all that he didn't understand why was Tomas acting like a stubborn idiot and why he hadn't said anything, but he knew this one wasn't just on Tomas. Marcus had known he was hurt, had seen the blood staining his shirt, after all, and he'd noted how gingerly Tomas held his hand when he wasn't waving it around with the crucifix or the bible. He should have asked right away, instead of letting his anger get the better of him. Well, there was nothing for it. He would have to simply take care of the wound now. Then he would go out and get some ice for the bruise on his cheek, because Tomas could pack a surprisingly strong punch even with an injured hand.

"Okay, let's see the damage," Marcus sighed and sat down, nodding at Tomas to give him his arm. Tomas reluctantly moved the limb, sleeves rolled up just above the bandage. Even as Marcus started uncovering the top layer he frowned. The bandage was sticky with blood and maybe something else. The skin he could see looked to be a bit puffy and red and judging from the tense set of Tomas' shoulders and the way his breathing sped up, every movement hurt. Finally Marcus pulled off the last of the bandage, eliciting a pained hiss from Tomas as it pulled at the wound.

"Sorry," Marcus said automatically and moved the arm a bit so Tomas's fist was almost touching his shoulder. Marcus grimaced. The wound was jagged, and a good three inches long. There was caked blood on it along with some fresh, and Marcus grimaced at the sight of pus starting to ooze from the wound. He put the towel on the table under Tomas's arm and poured a hefty dose of the disinfectant on the wound.

Tomas hissed as the pain hit him and tried to pull away, but Marcus was expecting it and had a strong hold on the arm.

"Oh, stop acting like a child," Marcus snapped, angry that Tomas had let it go this far. He also clearly remembered the way a year ago Tomas had rewrapped his arm and berated him for fidgeting. Tomas stilled and Marcus continued cleaning the wound, hearing no more protests. But the silence was dragging on his nerves more than the pained hiss and Marcus already regretted snapping. He eased his grip on the arm and looked up to apologize, when he froze. Tomas's face was ashen and there were droplets of sweat running down his face. At least Marcus really hoped it was just sweat and not tears of pain. He let go of Tomas's arm as if burned.

"Hell, Tomas, why didn't you say something?" Marcus reached out to offer comfort and apology, but Tomas flinched back and that was maybe worse than being punched in the face.

"I punched you. Seemed only fair... to let you get even," Tomas put through gritted teeth.

"That doesn't mean I want to _hurt_ you. What the hell?"

Tomas shrugged.

"It had to be cleaned. No point in crying about it."

Marcus sighed, unsure what to say without making the tension between them worse. He reached back for the arm, somewhat relieved that Tomas didn't protest. He resumed the cleaning, though he paid much more attention to Tomas's face and reactions and each time he saw a flinch, he paused. He was just about to wrap the arm and stretched it out a bit, when the movement caused the sleeve to slip down. Marcus rolled it up all the way he could then paused, a frown marring his face.

"What?" Tomas asked, confused and a little impatient. He was feeling worse by the minute and all he wanted to do was crawl into a bed and wake up next year. Just his luck he would catch the flu and a sore arm at the same time, Tomas thought. He was about to ask Marcus if he planned to finish the bandaging or just keep staring at him, when Marcus once again turned his arm this way and that causing the pain to flare up anew.

"Ouch!" Tomas protested the unexpected move and pulled back, glaring at Marcus. Marcus ignored him, instead putting a hand on Tomas's forehead and cheeks, checking his temperature. Tomas was too surprised to move away.

"You should've told me sooner," Marcus said reproachfully.

"What? Just... wrap it, I'll be fine."

"This is not _fine_ , Tomas," Marcus said and pointed to the red streaks spreading from the wound up Tomas' arm. Tomas frowned, not having noticed them before. He'd been trying not to look at his arm and at the gaping wound. Gingerly he touched one of the streaks with his other hand and grimaced. His whole arm was tender to touch and the skin felt warm. He sighed.

"Perfect. It's infected." He still remembered the incident with the bite from Casey and how he'd had to stop at the emergency room after all to get some antibiotics. He recalled feeling the same irritation he felt now, though the pain was localized then. It didn't feel like his whole body was out of whack.

"Yeah, it sure is," Marcus muttered and started digging through his bag, looking for something. "You will definitely need something stronger than just peroxide for that."

"I'm not sure going to the ER is very smart right now," Tomas commented, watching with slight curiosity what was Marcus doing. "We are still a bit too close to Connecticut."

"Not to mention we have no proper insurance and we can't risk what happened to Bennett."

Tomas frowned, shaking his head.

"I'm not going to the ER. I can just... tough it out or something."

Marcus snorted at that.

"You need antibiotics."

Tomas wanted to protest, but just then Marcus found what he was looking for, holding a card victoriously.

"I knew I had it somewhere. Time to call in a small favor," he said with a smirk and took out his phone.

"Who you calling?"

"A friend I made last year," Marcus said, waiting for the person to pick up. Tomas let out a resigned sigh and put his head down on the table, holding his arm propped stiffly in the air. He debated whether he should just bandage it up and get into bed, let Marcus chat with whomever he wanted. But the thought of having to move felt like too much effort. His head was throbbing in time with the pain in his arm and his skin felt taut and too tight. He just wanted to sleep.

Marcus had finally managed to reach the person he was calling and Tomas caught the name Shelley before he tuned out the conversation. He could still hear Marcus speaking, but his voice seemed to be farther away. Tomas didn't mind. The table was getting more comfortable by the minute... his eyes fell closed and his arm landed on the towel. The pain of the touch roused him for a moment but he quickly relaxed back into the slumber. That was until Marcus suddenly appeared next to him, taking his injured hand and turning it a bit. There was a snap of the phone's camera.

"Keep the arm up," Marcus reminded Tomas absentmindedly even as he played with the phone.

"Que?" Tomas mumbled, blinking awake and straightening up, confused by what was going on, yet having enough presence of mind to not want to look absolutely pathetic in his friend's eyes. "What... what're you doing?"

"Sending the photo to Shelley. For some reason she didn't like my description. Okay... sent." Marcus gave Tomas a triumphant grin. Tomas just frowned.

"Who's Shelley?"

"She's an ex-army doc. She runs a small doctor's office in Virginia... I met her a few months back. I figured she could call in a prescription to the pharmacy."

"Oh. Good idea," Tomas said, slightly impressed that Marcus managed to make some useful friends during his time off. Tomas wished he and Mouse had had the same luck, instead of just pissing off a bunch of demons. Maybe the situation would have turned out differently for Mouse. Shaking off the thought—he really didn't feel like tackling that minefield right now—Tomas fidgeted on the chair. It was getting rather uncomfortable trying to keep his arm lifted so that the wound wouldn't touch anything. He was also starting to feel a bit cold and the bed was practically calling his name.

"Could we maybe just wrap it up till then? I think I'd like to lie down now."

Marcus frowned, once again putting his hand on Tomas' cheek. Tomas pulled away, the hand feeling like ice on his face.

"S' cold," he muttered at Marcus worried look.

"You're a bit warm, but not too feverish," Marcus commented then looked at the phone, willing it to ring. It stayed silent, so he sat down and put a light wrap on the arm. There was nothing else he could do anyway before Shelley called the pharmacy or gave him more instruction.

"Here, all set. Go lie down; I'll wake you up if needed."

"Thanks," Tomas said with relief and, albeit a bit slowly, walked over to the bed. A few more minutes passed by and Marcus was starting to wonder if Shelley had even got the photo. He was about to call her back when the phone rang. He picked it up, throwing a look towards the figure on the bed. Tomas was tossing around, first trying to find a comfortable position then pulling the blanket up to his shoulder even though he was still fully clothed.

"I was starting to wonder if you didn't lose my number," Marcus said jokingly when Shelley interrupted him without pleasantries.

"I had to pull the photo up on my computer to see clearly." The tone of her voice clearly said the news she had wasn't good. Marcus cursed inwardly.

"I'm guessing you're not calling because of my lack of photography skills."

"The way I see it, you have two choices."

Well, that sounded rather ominous. Marcus debated whether to leave the room or not, but Tomas didn't seem to be paying much attention to him at the moment anyway. "I'm listening."

"You can take your friend straight to an ER, because that wound needs some serious cleaning and IV antibiotics."

Marcus swallowed and this time the curse left his lips for real.

"That's really not such a great option right now, Shelley."

"I thought so, otherwise you wouldn't have called me." She was nothing if not practical.

"What's behind door number two?"

"You can bring him to me. How far out are you?"

Marcus made a quick calculation in his mind and thought that wasn't such a bad idea actually.

"If we don't stop anywhere and drive tonight, about 7 to 8 hours."

There was silence on the other end and Marcus frowned.

"Shelley?"

"Let me think," she snapped, then sighed and there was a rustle of paper. "Okay. Based on what you told me, he's not critical yet. He's still capable of walking, talking. Right?"

Marcus grimaced, looking at the lump on the bed.

"Well, he made it to the bed just fine, though he's asleep now."

"Fever? Chills?"

"He's a bit warm... and wrapped himself up in blankets."

More silence, then a sigh.

"I'd really prefer if you took him to the ER, but they would definitely keep him a few days. I assume you don't want to take that risk."

"I will drive him to you. If it's that bad, we can make it in six hours."

"Yes, the faster the better. But first, I'll need you to grab a paper and pen. I have a list of things you need to pick up and do before you even get in the car."

Now Marcus frowned, his gut churning in a feeling of foreboding.

"What do you mean? I though the sooner we get there the better."

"I'm going to level with you, Marcus. If you don't take care of that wound and get him antibiotics right now, by the time you arrive it might be too late for me to help him."

Marcus stood frozen in place. Surely she was kidding.

"I'm most definitely not," she contradicted when he voiced his thought. "Well? Tomas doesn't have time for you to chicken out."

"I'm not chickening out," Marcus growled and walked over to his bag to find the paper and pen, then he went back to the table and sit down heavily on the chair. He had a feeling the following hours would be anything but restful for both him and Tomas. "Okay, got it. Let's hear what needs to be done."

By the time Marcus finished writing down the notes he felt in serious need of some strong whiskey, yet he knew he wouldn't have any until they arrived at Shelley's place.

"Do you need me to repeat it?" she asked, her voice all business, yet there was a hint of sympathy.

"No... I think I have it all. Are you sure I need to do this?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation and Marcus gritted his teeth, throwing another look towards Tomas. He looked to be asleep for the moment and if not for the slight grimace on his face and the fact that the blanket was pulled up to his chin, he would've looked okay. Marcus ran a hand over his face.

"Okay, okay. Will they have everything at the pharmacy?"

"They should. Tell me where you are and I'll text you the address of the nearest pharmacy where they'll have the antibiotics. Call me when you get the stuff and I'll go over it with you again, okay?"

"Sounds like a blast," Marcus sighed and told her the address, then hung up. He really wished he could just teleport Tomas to Shelley's place so she could take care of everything. He wasn't looking forward to what would come next, but knew it had to be done, unless he wanted to risk Tomas' life even more than he was now. Ten minutes later his phone buzzed with a text and he looked up the address. At least it was still in the town and not too far away. He grabbed another paper and wrote a short note to Tomas, putting it down within reach along with a bottle of water and Tomas's cell phone. Tomas didn't even stir when he left the room.

What woke him up was the incredible cold and the feeling of an earthquake jostling him on the bed, causing his arm to flare up in pain. Tomas's teeth were clenched but he still couldn't stop the moan that escaped him.

"It shouldn't be this bad; the fever's not so high!" Marcus was still talking on the phone - or was it again? Tomas didn't know. Time seemed to have slipped away. When they arrived at the motel it had been still light outside, late afternoon, but now there was darkness behind the window, though the room was lit brightly. Tomas halfheartedly wondered how came the light didn't wake him up, but then another shudder shook his body and he curled up into a tighter ball, trying to preserve some heat. How came Marcus wasn't freezing his ass off?

"Are you sure?" Marcus asked into the phone, looking haggard and disgruntled, but mostly worried. The bruise on his cheek shone brightly and Tomas wanted to hide his face in the pillow and never come back as he was hit by the feeling of guilt and shame over his earlier outburst. The feelings were so strong that they had taken him totally by surprise.

„Yeah, okay, okay! I'll call you when it's done!" Marcus snapped, finishing the call and looked at Tomas, then paused.

"Hey. What's wrong?" he asked and Tomas must've blinked or something, because next thing he knew, Marcus was by his side, a blessedly gentle hand on his face, brushing away the sudden onset of tears while his other hand stopped his shaking form from rolling off the bed.

"S-sorry, I... I didn't want to... punch you," Tomas managed to get out between chattering teeth and tried to burrow deeper under the blankets, but Marcus didn't let him.

"Hey, hey. None of that, luv. Save the apologies for later, yeah?" Marcus said in a slightly choked voice and with a look he usually reserved for those unfortunate enough to need their services. Tomas knew in that moment that he was screwed, that whatever was to come wouldn't be pleasant. He swallowed the feeling of nausea and grunted.

"What's going on?" he asked, trying to clear his head. "It's... cold in here?"

"No, it's not. Just your thermostat is way off."

"Oh. Okay. Another blanket?" he asked but his answer was the blanket he had being pulled from his shoulders. Marcus shook his head, looking slightly apologetic but also resolute.

"No. I actually need you awake right now."

"Why?" Tomas said and knew it sounded like a whine, but he didn't care. He was feeling like his whole body was immersed in cold water, ice biting into skin and muscles, making even his joints hurt. He felt horrible and all he wanted was to get warm and to sleep, preferably until global warming did its job and heated up this blasted motel.

"Tomas? I need you to focus on me for a moment," Marcus said and Tomas blinked, his train of thought stopping. Marcus needed something from him and he would be damned if he let him down.

"Mhm?"

"That wound on your arm needs taking care of before we can drive all the way to Shelley's place."

Tomas frowned. He didn't like the sound of that.

"Just let it be," he grunted and Marcus momentarily closed his eyes as if in silent prayer. And maybe God answered this one, because when he opened them, there was steel and determination.

"I let it be too long already. Now it needs to be fixed," Marcus said and Tomas wasn't sure if he was talking about the wound or their whole friendship. He was, however, sure that he didn't feel up to either task.

"Come on, you need to sit up. We don't have a lot of time."

"Time for what?" Tomas asked even as Marcus was nudging him to move into a sitting position. "Do we have a case?" Tomas hoped not, because he wasn't feeling up to par. Marcus shook his head.

"Not work. Not until you're better. But we need to get moving soon."

"Okay," Tomas said with a frown, while Marcus patted his leg then went off to fetch something from the table. Tomas followed his movements and his eyes widened a bit when he caught sight of the table.

"Dios mio... did you rob the pharmacy?" he called out upon seeing half the desk filled with packages of gauze, ointments and stuff Tomas didn't even want to try and decipher. Marcus gave a slight chuckle.

"I wish. Would've been kinder to our budget."

"Marcus?" Tomas felt lost. Cold and confused and also a bit intimidated. This was starting to feel like a bad dream and he wasn't sure he could wake up from it anytime soon. Marcus must've sensed his apprehension, because he was by his side in an instant, putting a cup of water and some pills on the bedside table and a calming hand on Tomas face.

"Hey, it's okay. No big deal, we'll just clean it, wrap it and be on our way. Shelley will fix you right up then."

While that didn't sound all that threatening, Tomas still didn't know who this Shelley person really was. "Fix _what_?" he asked, getting a bit irritated even as Marcus was handing him a whole bunch of pills. "What're those?"

"Antibiotics and pain killers."

"That's... five pills!" Tomas counted them again, just to make sure he wasn't seeing double. Marcus put one of the pills into his shaking hand and held out a cup of water.

"Yes, and you will want to keep them all down, trust me." He gave Tomas a pointed look, waiting until Tomas grudgingly put the first pill into his mouth, then handed him the cup. Tomas was glad it was only half full as his hand was still shaking from the chills. He swallowed the pill and was a bit surprised when Marcus didn't push the rest at him.

"Shelley said to wait a few minutes in between. Just try to keep it down, yeah?" Marcus explained and Tomas grunted, leaning his head back against the wall. Marcus stood up and headed over to the table where he seemed to be putting together some elaborate procedure, checking his notes.

"Do I want to see the notes?" Tomas asked, willing his stomach to remain calm. It wasn't an easy task, seeing as he had barely eaten anything in the last few... was it hours or days? Tomas wasn't sure. Marcus looked up from the paper with a smirk.

"I don't think so. Just... relax. I've got this."

"Sounds... ominous," Tomas grimaced and cradled the injured arm to his chest, sneakily pulling the covers back up. "What... what you making there?"

"A hangover cure."

Tomas thought he must've heard wrong.

"Huh?"

Marcus laughed, even as he measured a spoonful of something that looked eerily like salt or sugar into the water bottle.

"It's an 'oral rehydration solution'. Homemade, but working."

"You got drunk while I slept?" Tomas was still confused, though he watched with some interest as Marcus fought to get the orange juice into the bottle without spilling.

"I wish," Marcus said, closing the bottle and shaking it up a bit to mix the content. "It should help you feel less crappy though."

"I doubt it," Tomas was nothing if not honest, especially when feeling this sick.

"Okay. Pill staying down?"

Tomas took an inner inventory and gave a slight shrug.

"Maybe," he said, eyeing the rest of the pills with some disapproval. He didn't take pills unless it was absolutely necessary. His abuela had instilled in him the power of home remedies and moving back to America and the cost of medicine there only strengthened this teaching. Tomas would rather invest time and money in healthy food and exercise to try and keep his body as hale as possible, lest he fall into the trap of the American medical system. It seemed that being an unsanctioned exorcist on the run put a bit of a damper on his plans though.

"Try to get down the rest of the pills," Marcus advised, filling Tomas's cup with water again then putting the bottle of the "hangover" cure on the bedside table as well. Tomas dutifully took the pills two at a time.

"It's just Tylenol and Advil, don't worry," Marcus explained. "But you'll appreciate them when I start cleaning the wound."

"You already... did that once." Tomas frowned, another shudder shaking his body, and he slid down in the bed a little. Marcus let him. "Aren't the antibiotics... enough?"

"Not if you don't want to end up in sepsis," Marcus sighed, running a hand over his short cropped hair. Tomas froze then swallowed back down the nausea.

"Sepsis," he repeated and the word left a truly bad taste in his mouth. "That's... that's what got Bennett."

Marcus inclined his head.

"Is it? You never told me the whole story."

"Mouse told me..." Tomas closed his eyes for a moment, because thinking about Bennett and Mouse at the same time was just too hard, especially when he was feeling so bad already. He felt the bed dip and a hand ruffled his hair, pushing strands of it off his forehead, cool fingers lingering on his forehead.

"He almost died from that... they put him on a ventilator..." Tomas grimaced at the thought. "He had no way to protect himself."

"That won't happen to you," Marcus said with determination and Tomas opened his eyes. "I'm not leaving you in some hospital unprotected, I promise."

Marcus waited until Tomas acknowledged him with a nod then lightly tapped his chin.

"Do you trust me, Tomas?"

"With my life," Tomas answered, without hesitation and he could see raw emotion pass quickly through Marcus's eyes before the older man nodded.

"Good. I need you to do everything I tell you, and not fight me on it. At least until you're back on your feet. Yes?"

Tomas frowned. That was a lot to ask, especially as he didn't know what Marcus wanted to do. But in the end, he trusted the man and after so many months of pretending everything was fine, that he was in control of things, he felt the need to just let go. He was too tired to pretend anymore and if Marcus wanted to take the helm, so be it.

"Yes," Tomas said and was dismayed at the flutter of warmth he felt at Marcus's grateful smile.

"Good. Cause let me tell you, _hermano_ , this will suck balls for both of us."

Tomas found out quickly enough that Marcus hadn't lied or exaggerated at all. Once he managed to push Tomas into sipping at the rehydration solution, or as Tomas promptly nicknamed it, orange swill, Marcus went over to the microwave and put in some water to heat. Tomas followed his movements, trying to figure out what was awaiting him, while at the same time praying for the pain pills to kick in soon. Maybe if he could fall asleep, he would be spared whatever torture was coming his way.

Luck wasn't on his side though as the microwave beeped all too soon. Marcus came over to his bed with a bunch of things and nudged Tomas to release the injured arm from under the covers. Tomas reluctantly did so, biting at his bottom lip as Marcus unrolled the bandage. If possible, the wound looked even redder and the telltale signs of infection were unmistakable. Marcus put a clean towel over Tomas's lap, then wet a newly bought washcloth and dipped it into the hot microwaved water.

"It'll feel hot, but that's the idea," Marcus warned him before applying the washcloth to the wound. Tomas hissed at the burning feeling and instinctively pulled away, but Marcus held his arm.

"It's burning," Tomas protested but Marcus shook his head.

"It's not that hot, Tomas. Trust me. We need to soften up the wound before cleaning it."

Tomas swallowed. If the pain now was any indication, he really didn't want to be awake for the other part.

"Just relax, try to rest. Drink the juice."

Tomas shook his head. No way was he sipping that swill now... he was happy the pills hadn't made a comeback the second the cloth touched his arm.

"How... how long?" he asked after a minute or two when the heat became somewhat bearable, even chasing away some of the chill he felt.

"A bit. Until the pills kick in and we can do the other stuff."

"I don't want anything else," Tomas protested halfheartedly and got a sad smile in reply.

"I know." By the looks of it Marcus was wishing to be somewhere else right about now too. The silence wasn't helping; it just made both of them more aware of Tomas's harsh breathing or the gritting of his teeth when Marcus changed the washcloth for a new, warmer one in a few minutes.

"So... who is Shelley?" Tomas asked, trying to think about anything other than this room and the heat on his arm. It was strange how one part of his body could feel like burning, while the rest of him was still wracked by occasional chills.

"Ah, she's a great lady," Marcus said with a soft smile even as he changed the washcloth once again. "A bit bossy though."

Tomas snorted at that and Marcus raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to comment. Tomas chose not to, seeing as he was in his hands, literally.

"I met her shortly after we parted ways," Marcus said and seemed to be grateful when Tomas didn't jump in to say "when you left me". "I was... struggling to get by a bit. Not like I had that much experience in stuff that didn't involve demons or languages."

"Funny. I always imagined you getting by just fine," Tomas mumbled, his eyes downcast. "Was hoping you were doing better than me and Mouse at least." In truth, the first month was probably the hardest of all for Tomas. He kept looking back, expecting Marcus to appear from the shadows. It took some time for him to realize that it wasn't going to happen; that the older man hadn't just taken a week off with every intention of returning. In the meantime, Mouse did her best to get his head back on track which meant fighting and interrogating demons. Both tasks were made more difficult by the absence Marcus created in Tomas's heart.

"I think I was just as lost as ever," Marcus said, then shook off his nostalgia and dark thoughts. "I met Shelley in a park. Or rather, she found me sleeping on a park bench during a cold day, so she was a bit worried I might've frozen there or something." Marcus smirked. "She scared the bejeezus out of me when she tried to wake me up."

"What did you do?" Tomas asked with some interest, because he knew Marcus had two ways of waking up. Either blinking slowly like a lazy cat or jumping into action, sometimes spitting scripture still half asleep.

"I might've grabbed my rosary and started reciting the rite of exorcism, but it's her word against mine. I remember only very politely asking why she was shaking my shoulder."

Tomas's mouth turned up in a small smile, before it turned into a grimace as another chill shook his body. He sighed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

"You okay?" Marcus asked and Tomas almost snorted because he felt anything but okay. Yet he knew Marcus was just worried and was trying to do his best.

"Yeah... just tired. Kind of want to sleep for a few days."

"You can try for a nap, but we will have to move this to the bathroom shortly," Marcus said and sounded almost apologetic. Tomas cringed.

"Tell me more about... Shelley?" he asked and opened his eyes. No sense in falling asleep for few minutes and at least Marcus was telling him about what he was up to during his time off.

"Oh, you'll like her. She's fierce but has a heart of gold. Served as an army doc for several tours, so she knows how to boss people around. Now she's opened her own doctor's office in Stenton. Which is where we'll be heading to shortly." Marcus peered at his watch then at Tomas, who fidgeted, suddenly feeling like a bug under a microscope.

"Sounds like you made a useful friend."

"Yeah, one that might just save our assess," Marcus agreed. "How's the pain?"

Tomas thought about it. He debated the idea of telling Marcus it was the same, just to postpone what was obviously coming, but he was too tired and he just wanted it to be all over.

"A bit better," he said reluctantly. Marcus nodded and took off the last washcloth, peering at the wound. Tomas dared to take a look too and decided he didn't want to repeat the experience anytime soon. The wound was angry red and puffy, glistening with some discharge and blood. Tomas swallowed and looked away, trying not to connect the image with the pulsating pain.

"Okay, I think it's time. Come on, sooner we do this, sooner you can rest." Marcus put away the basin and the used washcloths and waited for Tomas to get up. Tomas was grateful he gave him a chance to get up on his own and while he was close by, he didn't actually try and steer Tomas around. While the room spun a bit when he stood up, after a second it became still and Tomas felt at least a bit steady on his feet.

"What are we doing?" he asked, trying to hide his apprehension and failing miserably.

"Just need to put it under water for a while."

"Oh, okay." Tomas frowned. That didn't sound too unreasonable or complicated, and even though he imagined the water would sting a bit, he didn't understand Marcus' concern./

The bathroom actually had a bath tub, although there wasn't much space around it. Tomas stopped by the sink and was ready to turn on the water, but Marcus stopped him.

"No, in the tub. Shelley said you should be sitting down, in case you feel faint."

That wasn't at all encouraging and Tomas had a bit of trouble concentrating enough to figure out the logistics or the reasons behind them. Marcus took pity on him and pointed to the space by the tub, right next to the faucet.

"Sit down here."

"Are you serious?"

Marcus just gave him a pointed look, clearly reminding Tomas of his promise to do as he was told. With a sigh and confusion written all over his face, Tomas sat down, leaning his side against the tub and gingerly putting the arm under the faucet. Marcus eyed the setup, then sit down on the edge of the tub, his knees almost bumping into Tomas' head. It wasn't the most ideal placement for either of them, but it was clear Marcus wanted access to the wound and Tomas also realized he was now practically sandwiched between the wall, tub and Marcus.

Marcus took Tomas's injured arm in his and first moved it out of the way.

"Need to set the temperature," he muttered as he turned on the faucet and tinkered with the setting. Tomas was dismayed to see he had the tap on full blast and he was quickly understanding why sitting down might've been a good idea indeed.

"For how long?" he asked when Marcus seemed to find the right setting and strength.

"Shelley said 15 to 20 minutes. Are you comfy?"

Tomas wasn't, but he was pretty sure no amount of pillows or blankets would make this experience better. He swallowed, idly noting that at least he was close enough to the toilet if he felt sick. Hesitantly, he gave a small nod and braced himself for the pain.

The curse that left his mouth when Marcus held his arm under the spray of lukewarm water must've made his abuela turn over in her grave. Marcus jerked, but didn't let go. He pushed his knee a bit closer to Tomas though and Tomas reached out, grabbing hold of one ankle, to steady himself.

"I'm sorry luv, I know it hurts. It'll be over soon, I promise," Marcus said, keeping up a litany of calming words and Tomas tried to regulate his breathing, thinking he could do this, he just had to breathe through it, no big deal. His arm felt on fire, the spray of water feeling like sharp teeth biting into wound again and again, but he could take it. It wasn't _that_ bad. Until Marcus reached out with his other hand, his fingers touching the wound and pulling the jagged edges apart, opening the wound to the stream of water.

Tomas let out a keening sound and pressed his head hard against the edge of the tub. He fought for breath; the only reason he didn't pull his arm away was the fact that he couldn't find enough air and energy to struggle against Marcus's rock hard grip. If he'd had the capacity to think, he would've thought those fingers would definitely leave some bruises. But all he could think of was how to stop the keening sound coming from his throat and exchange it for some fresh air.

"Tomas?" He could hear Marcus's voice, the concern clear even through the roar of water in his ears. "Come on, relax. You need to breathe." It was an order if ever Tomas had heard one and, surprisingly, his lungs seemed to respond to it of their own volition. It took him several minutes during which Marcus still didn't release his grip on the arm, his fingers still keeping the wound wide open, but finally he managed to take control back over his own body and start breathing in a fashion that wouldn't make him pass out. Though at this point Tomas thought it would be a blessing if he did.

"Tomas, you hear me?" Marcus was still sounding rather worried as he nudged Tomas with his knee and Tomas realized he still had a death grip on the man's ankle. It would probably bruise as well, but Tomas couldn't let go, didn't want to.

"Yeah," he choked out and gave a slight nod, realizing there were tears running down his face. He didn't care.

"Christ, don't scare me like that again," Marcus berated him and Tomas looked up, wanting to ask if he was fucking serious, when he saw that Marcus' eyes were also red, his eyes teary, face scrunched up in regret. So instead of "fuck you" Tomas said a quiet "sorry".

Marcus gave a teary chuckle and shook his head.

"You gotta be kidding me. I'm the one torturing you, and you're saying sorry?"

"Take it... or... leave it," Tomas hissed through gritted teeth, now fighting between nausea and the need to scream. Marcus snorted, the look on his face speaking clearly.

Tomas groaned, head pushed against the cold tub, the hand gripping Marcus' leg slightly trembling but holding on, for he needed to be grounded. Closing his eyes, Tomas just willed the pain to go away, his mind to take him somewhere else. His mind went to the prayer of healing his abuela used often when some of her friends got sick. Tomas tried to remember the words, the sound of her voice saying it and unconsciously started saying the words too. Under his breath and so softly Marcus couldn't have possibly heard or understand with the sound of the running water, but maybe Tomas was mistaken because the voice of his abuela in his memory was soon strengthened by Marcus' own voice reciting the prayer. Tomas didn't look up this time to see if it was real or just his imagination. He just took strength from the words and focused on breathing.

Soon, though it seemed like hours to Tomas but was truly only just about 15 minutes, the pressure on his arm had abated and the water was turned off. Marcus was still holding his wrist but now it was more for support than anything else.

"Tomas?" he spoke softly and Tomas could feel a hand running over the top of his head then sliding down to the back of his neck in silent support. "You still with me, luv?"

"Yeah," Tomas grumbled though it was clear he wished to be somewhere else. He made no attempt to move. His body was shaking, the lukewarm water not helping with the chills..

"Come on, we need to finish this." Marcus somehow awkwardly stood up and Tomas could hear the popping of joints, but he still didn't care to move, even though he at least relinquished his hold on Marcus's leg. He didn't want the man to fall on his face after all.

"Just leave me here," Tomas muttered tiredly.

"That really wasn't the point of this little fun session. Come on. Up and at 'em..."

Tomas felt a hand tap his cheek and he was forced to open his eyes and look up, because the distraction didn't let him sleep. Marcus was peering down at him and Tomas thought the man's face would be permanently etched in a frown of concern if he kept doing that.

"Stop frowning," he mumbled and a bit awkwardly tried to push away from the tub. "Doesn't suit you."

At this Marcus chuckled.

"What, you worried it'll get stuck and you'll be forced to look at this sorry mug for the rest of time?"

Tomas gave a nod that was in no way ironic. Marcus in return grabbed his other arm and helped to hoist him up, while making sure the injured appendage wasn't going to touch anything. It was an awkward move, seeing as Tomas's legs had fallen asleep and for a moment they just stood in the small bathroom while Tomas got back some feeling.

"That sucked," he said honestly and Marcus nodded in agreement, a small grimace on his face hinting that it wasn't over yet. Tomas' eyes narrowed.

"You planning more torture?"

"Trust me, if I could, I'd change places with you." Marcus said with so much emotion that Tomas felt a flash of guilt for acting like a child.

"No. I wouldn't want that," he protested and decided to stop complaining. At least unless it was utterly necessary.

Somehow they stumbled out of the bathroom and Tomas was dismayed by how much he needed Marcus's help to even keep on his feet and walk in a somewhat straight fashion. But the cleaning had taken a lot out of him. His skin was covered in cold sweat and he couldn't stop shaking. His legs felt jittery and ready to give out any second. Maybe it was the lack of proper food or the infection, Tomas didn't know, but he was starting to feel lightheaded too and he could feel his heart pumping wildly in his chest. All in all, he felt miserable and ready to just curl up and die, yet instead of the bed, Marcus led him towards the chair at the table. The desk of which was filled with half the pharmacy. Tomas couldn't stop the moan.

"Are you going to throw up?" Marcus asked, already looking around for something to use to catch it.

"Not yet," Tomas said through the grimace and Marcus let out a breath, running both hands over his face.

"Okay. Just... rest up a bit... and sip this. You need fluids." Marcus handed him the opened bottle of orange juice mix and Tomas grimaced, but took it dutifully. His mouth was dry and throat scratchy, though that might've been just from his attempts to muffle his moans earlier. "Keep that arm up, okay? Don't touch anything with it." Marcus warned him, a bit unnecessarily. If Tomas knew one thing it was he didn't want anything touching the wound ever again.

He watched with half lidded eyes as Marcus puttered around, clearing half of the desk and cleaning it with soapy water. Tomas frowned at the process, but didn't comment. He found that just sipping from the bottle was a feat and Marcus was too focused on his task to be interrupted anyway. So Tomas watched him recheck the notes on the paper, wash his hands, open packages of gauze and then pull on a pair of gloves.

"You look like you're getting ready for surgery," Tomas observed with a soft snort and giggle. Marcus just raised an eyebrow and Tomas blanched.

"No way," he pulled back a little, ready to fight if necessary. Letting Marcus clean his wound was one thing, trying to butcher him was another. But Marcus just rolled his eyes.

"Hey, nothing sharp here," he pointed at the table and Tomas noted with some relief that he was right. "Don't worry, okay? I've got this." Marcus said, waiting for his nod. When he got one, he looked at the things in front of him with a sigh and a frown of concentration.

"Okay, let's see if we can manage this." He moved with the chair to be closer to Tomas and pointed out to him how he should hold his arm... elbow leaning against the desk, fist pointed up.

"What're you doing?" Tomas asked, his voice filled with apprehension, yet he held his arm as was told.

"Just packing the wound, then we're out of here and you can sleep," Marcus said in a tone that was supposed to calm Tomas down, though it just made him more nervous. He would've actually preferred Marcus to be snappish at him rather than gentle at this point, to distract him from his fear.

Marcus in the meantime grabbed a tube of antibiotic ointment and one of the rolled gauzes and pushed the content of the tube out, working it into the whole length of the gauze until it was all gooey. Once satisfied with it, Marcus unrolled one end of the gauze and with a sigh leaned over Tomas's hand.

"I'm sorry luv, this might sting a little," he said with an apologetic smile and with gloved fingers pushed one end of the gauze into the wound.

Tomas grunted and bit his lip to stop himself from crying out. Marcus didn't even pause; he continued feeding the gauze into the wound until there was only the end left. It didn't take long, maybe a minute or two total, but by the time Marcus finished lightly wrapping the arm, Tomas's lip was bleeding and he looked to be on the verge of fainting. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was breathing harshly.

"Tomas?" He could hear Marcus's worried voice, the snap of used gloves being thrown away. He felt a hand on his face, a gentle touch as Marcus wiped the blood off his chin, but he still couldn't find the strength to open his eyes, to do more than grunt in reply, to let his partner know he was still there, still aware.

"M' fine," he managed to grumble out when he felt fingers at his neck checking his pulse. "It's over?" he opened his eyes and was rewarded by a relieved smile on Marcus's too weary face.

"Yeah. Let me just pack things up, and you can sleep in the car. Can you stay sitting on the chair?"

Tomas frowned at the question.

"Course," he pouted. He was able to sit in a chair since forever, why was Marcus acting as if he was a kid? "Done that before." He said and Marcus chuckled.

"Sure you did. I'm asking because you're swaying a bit. Just... don't topple over, yeah?"

Tomas snorted, thinking it was a joke. But when Marcus let go of him and stepped away, the world indeed seemed to be a bit less stable and more wavy. Swallowing down the nausea, Tomas leaned over and rested his head on the table. That was refreshingly still and if he closed his eyes, the room stopped spinning too. When a moment later something heavy and warm was thrown over his shoulders, Tomas gave a thankful moan and pulled the blanket close around him. He felt as if there was ice in his veins, burning its way from his arm into the rest of his body.

"Okay, I'll be right back." Marcus left the room, both their backpacks in his arms, but as promised he was back before Tomas could start wondering where he went.

"Come on, darling, I've parked right in front so you don't have to walk that far. You _can_ walk, right?"

"Course I can," Tomas said with an indignant look and tried to get up, only to sway as the blanket got caught on the edge of the table. Marcus quickly caught him and adjusted the blanket, while Tomas was trying to shake it off.

"No, leave that on. Shelley said you need to stay warm."

"It's not ours." Tomas frowned.

"I don't really care right now."

"Thou shall not steal?"

Marcus snorted.

"I'm not stealing... that blanket is threadbare at best. If you worry so much, I'll make sure to send it back later."

"Yeah, sounds good," Tomas agreed with a honest look as Marcus put an arm around his waist and led him out of the room. Tomas shuddered as the fresh night air hit him on the face and even though he hated being treated like an invalid, he was momentarily grateful for the strong grip helping him stay upright. Having the car so close was also a good thing. Ever since Marcus discovered the cut on Tomas' arm, he was feeling progressively worse, despite the painkillers. While before he could pretend this was just the wear and tear of a hard exorcism and lack of proper rest, now he felt like he was a victim of the worst flu ever.

With Marcus's help Tomas got settled in the car, still enveloped in the blanket as Marcus locked his seatbelt for him and closed the door. A moment later Marcus was handing him a bundled up old sweater and the bottle of the orange juice. Tomas eyed both of them without much enthusiasm.

"You can use it as a pillow," Marcus said as he let the sweater fall into Tomas lap, but he wasn't as easily discouraged about the orange juice. "You need to drink this, or you'll just feel worse."

"I already feel like shit," Tomas muttered. "Doubt this helps."

"I don't care. Drink. Doctor's orders."

"You're no doctor," Tomas said pouting but took a sip, just to get Marcus off his back.

"And thank God for that," Marcus said as he turned on the engine.

"You wouldn't be so bad," Tomas said after a moment, taking the sweater from his lap and using it as a pillow as he leaned his head against the car door. Marcus gave him a surprised look.

"I would've thought the last hour would make you think the opposite."

Tomas shrugged.

"Hurt like hell," he admitted. "My fault for not telling sooner. Not yours."

Marcus looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn't want to argue, especially seeing as Tomas was right this time.

"Let's not play the blame game now, shall we? As soon as you feel better, I'll give you a told you so."

Tomas snorted, then adjusted the blanket and closed his eyes. Maybe he could sleep through the next few days and leave at least part of the nightmare behind.

 

* * *

 

The drive was a jumble of moments for Tomas. It felt as if he had just closed his eyes when Marcus was nudging his shoulder, a hand brushing over his forehead and neck. Tomas blinked his eyes open, realizing they were in a parking lot of some fast food restaurant. It was still dark and there was no one around, even though the restaurant was open.

"What?" Tomas mumbled and tried to figure out why he was being woken up from a sleep that brought him at least partial comfort.

"You need to take a pill and drink this," Marcus said, handing both items to Tomas, who eyed him with confusion.

"You woke me up for that?"

"Well, I can hardly make you swallow the pill asleep now, can I?" Marcus said a bit irritated, and Tomas extracted his healthy hand from under the blanket to take the pill, then the bottle. He grimaced at the taste of the drink and returned the bottle to Marcus after a few sips. Marcus shook his head.

"Keep it and drink whenever you can."

Tomas grumbled his assent and leaned his head back against the window, ready to fall back asleep.

"Do you need to use the bathroom?" Marcus asked and when Tomas shook his head, he turned the engine back on and drove the car out of the parking lot, back towards the highway.

"Where are we?" Tomas asked after a minute, wondering how much longer until he could lie down flat. His head hurt from the vibrations of the car, his joints were stiff and even though the blanket was helping to keep him warm, it also felt like lead on his skin.

"Still about five hours away," Marcus said and Tomas didn't even care that he was answering a different question. "How do you feel?"

"Como el infierno," Tomas muttered and Marcus chuckled.

"I won't lie, you look like it too. Anything specific?"

Tomas shook his head. Really nothing Marcus could do at this point.

"Okay, go back to sleep. I'll wake you in two hours for another pill and drink, yeah?"

Tomas wasn't happy about the prospect, but didn't protest. He fidgeted a bit on the seat, trying to find the least uncomfortable position and returned to his slumber. At some point he realized that Marcus had turned on the radio, although it was just a quiet noise in the background. There was a phone call and another stop during which Tomas decided that taking pills was more fuss than it was worth and stubbornly refused to open his mouth until Marcus had enough and snapped at him. It was around hour four of their drive and the older man was obviously tired and keeping awake only thanks to sheer will and coffee.

It was shortly after that the nightmares came. Tomas always struggled with nightmares, especially since the demons seemed to find his mind such a welcoming place. And lately he had plenty of things that would have been nightmare fodder even under normal circumstances. Having a fever didn't help any.

He was back in the garage with Eric and both he and Marcus were in the middle of the exorcism, but time seemed to be warped, everything moving around in jumps, like a broken cassette tape. One second Tomas was standing by the foot of the man they were trying to save, the next he was kneeling near his head in prayer. He looked up in confusion only to see Eric gone, along with the garage. Tomas found himself in an empty church... one that was so familiar his gut churned even in the dream. It was at dusk, the church dark and cold, only the setting sun providing a bit of light through the stained glass. Tomas found himself walking between the empty pews, his mouth muttering the words of his next sermon. He was wearing a shroud that was heavy and stifling even in the coldness of the church. Tomas tried to take it off but it seemed impossible and his strength was waning. He felt as if he had just returned from an extremely hard run in the middle of the day, his head too hot from the sun, lips parched and muscles burning. Tomas made it towards the first pew and fell heavily down on it.

"I see you can't even keep your faithful sheep around," came a voice from behind him and Tomas spun on the seat.

"Marcus? What... what're you doing here?" he asked, disbelief and hope fighting in his mind. Tomas shook his head, frowning. "It's not you, is it?"

The figure that looked like Marcus smirked, one eyebrow up in question.

"Ah, but who else would I be?"

"A demon," Tomas said. He reached into his shroud to pull out a crucifix but found he couldn't move his arms. Marcus tsked and stepped in front of the now paralyzed Tomas.

"Poor little Tomas... can't even keep his congregation around, never mind his friends," Marcus kept taunting, while Tomas was finding it harder and harder to breathe. There was something pressing against his chest, but he couldn't move his arms to take it off and the Marcus who wasn't really Marcus, couldn't be, because he would never be so cruel, kept mocking him.

"What do you have left now, priest?" Marcus spat and Tomas felt the collar at his neck tightening as Marcus leaned over, so close he could feel his breath on his face.

"Nothing, Tomas. You have _nothing._ "

"Stop... lying!" Tomas managed to croak out and he knew he should be praying, should be trying to exorcise this demon, to bring Marcus back, but he couldn't. He had no breath left and there was a pain inside his chest as every word hit its mark. "No!" Tomas shouted and squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn't real, it couldn't be.

But it felt real... even as he opened his eyes and found himself on a bed, the room around him aflame. Tomas tried to sit up, to get away, but he found himself bound... arms and legs tied to the bed, a thick rope across his chest making it hard to breathe.

The flames were growing and he could feel the heat burning his skin, burning his lungs. The worst thing, though, was seeing Marcus standing at the door with the same look on his face he'd worn after he'd pulled the trigger on Andy.

"I was trying to save you, Tomas. But you're beyond redemption."

"No, no, Marcus! Help me! Por favor, lo siento!"

"This will be easier," Marcus said, turned and left. Tomas felt like his heart would rip in two.

"Por favor, Marcus, vuelve! Please!" he begged with the last of his breath until the room erupted and the flames swallowed him up in their hot embrace.

 

* * *

 

The radio was playing some old song from Meat Loaf and Marcus was focusing on the road, fighting off sleep. Being behind the wheel after the last few days they'd had wasn't exactly smart, but he had no other choice. It was becoming more and more obvious that Tomas needed Shelley's help. Despite the meds and the torturous cleaning of the wound, Tomas seemed to be getting worse and Marcus worried that once Shelley saw him she would simply call an ambulance, wash her hands of them. When Marcus chanced a look at his partner, he had to admit he wouldn't blame her.

Tomas's face looked too pale, especially given his usually tanned complexion. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and with the lip he'd bitten through earlier, he looked like he'd gotten in a fight. What made Marcus nervous though was his rising temperature and clearly waning strength. Just waking him up a short while ago for another dose of pain pills and a drink had been a challenge and at some point Marcus found himself losing patience and simply snapping. He regretted it instantly, but surprisingly the angry tone worked on the feverish Tomas. Either that or he just couldn't find the energy to fight any longer.

Marcus was getting used to the slight trembling, despite the warmth inside the car. He wished to open his window, to feel the wind on his face, as that would help wake him up a bit, but he didn't want Tomas to get even more chilled. So he hummed along with the music, watching the miles count down. They weren't far now. Only maybe an hour of driving left. Marcus found himself bearing down on the gas more and more, until he had to remind himself that there were speed limits and he really didn't need a cop stopping them right then.

The first sign that something was seriously wrong was a low mumble. Marcus looked over at his partner, unsure if he even heard right. He saw the eyes under the closed eyelids moving wildly from side to side, noted the faster breathing and the frown marring Tomas' face. Cursing the fact Tomas didn't get a reprieve from nightmares even now, he reached out, first to check the fever (rising) then the pulse (faster as far as he could tell while trying to keep them on the road). He was hoping the touch would calm Tomas down, but he was obviously too deep in the nightmare.

"Tomas, wake up. It's just a dream," Marcus stated and started looking for a place to stop the car. He was nearing the city so there was more traffic, and he really didn't want to crash the car while trying to calm Tomas down. While he didn't want to stop while they were so close, he realized it was not just a good idea but a necessity. Tomas started fidgeting, his mumbling growing more agitated, almost panicked. He was now struggling with the blanket that he'd managed to wrap around himself a bit too tightly. He clearly couldn't get his arms free and Marcus could see he was starting to hyperventilate.

Cursing, Marcus pulled the car over the first chance he got. Tomas, in the meantime, managed to work himself into a right frenzy. He was apologizing in Spanish and calling out Marcus's name, and then he made a keening sound that made Marcus's blood freeze and went totally still.

"Tomas?" Marcus quickly undid his own seatbelt and reached out, grabbing Tomas's face in both of his hands. "Tomas! Wake up!" he called, slapping his partner's face. He wasn't prepared for Tomas's eyes to snap open, pupils dilated in horror. He was gasping for breath, once again fighting against the blanket and the seatbelt, pushing Marcus away.

"It's me, hey, it's me, Tomas!" Marcus repeated over and over, but to no avail. Tomas kept struggling, gasping for breath, until he finally managed to free his injured arm from the blanket. In his mad attempt though he smacked the arm right into the door. It was as if a light bulb blew out. Marcus could see a flash of pain in the unfocused eyes before they rolled up and Tomas's whole body went slack.

Marcus's fingers reached, trembling, for Tomas's neck, checking for a pulse and he almost slumped back into his own car seat when he found one. Tomas had just fainted. Nothing else, it was just a faint, Marcus told himself and ran a hand over his head, before making sure Tomas's breathing was at least calming down.

"Are you pissed at us or what?" Marcus asked, aiming his question upstairs. Of course there was no answer, only a strange feeling of warmth in his veins. Not paying attention to that, Marcus first extricated Tomas from the blanket, then threw it onto the backseat. Tomas was warm enough already, his shirt soaked in sweat. Marcus debated whether it was wise to undo the seatbelt as well - the last thing he wanted was for Tomas to wake up and scramble out of the car. However, given that the restraint of the seatbelt might've been one of the reasons behind the panic, Marcus decided to take the risk. Making sure the door on the other side was locked, Marcus undid Tomas's seatbelt and carefully laid his injured arm in his lap.

Tomas stirred and came to, this time with much less panic.

"Hey there," Marcus said, keeping one hand on Tomas's shoulder just in case he started panicking again. But Tomas seemed more confused than anything.

"Dónde estamos? Que esta pasando?"

"Casi ahí. Estás bien, relájate."

Tomas blinked and Marcus felt relief when he saw his eyes clearing a bit, understanding coming back.

"Oh. Still... still in the car," Tomas muttered and Marcus rubbed his shoulder.

"Yeah. How do you feel?"

Tomas grimaced, ignoring the question.

"Why did we stop?"

Marcus sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes.

"You okay?" It was Tomas asking the question now and Marcus snorted.

"You had a nightmare, practically tried to jump out of the car but yeah, I'm fine." The sarcasm was dripping from his voice, thick like honey. Tomas opened his mouth to protest but then he must've remembered, because the look on his face changed. Marcus noted the confusion turning into a grimace of pain and fear, before being brushed under the surface. Tomas shook his head, obviously not ready to deal with whatever haunted his dreams, locking it all up. Marcus sighed, knowing it wasn't healthy, but also strangely relieved. He didn't feel strong enough to deal with one more problem. Maybe after some sleep and after Tomas got the medical care he needed, but not yet.

"I'm sorry. I don't... everything feels weird now," Tomas apologized, looking so miserable Marcus had to reach out, putting a calming hand at the nape of his neck. Tomas seemed to take some refuge in the touch.

"Stop apologizing," Marcus said and instead pushed the bottle of juice back into Tomas's hand with an imploring look. "Do you need a few more minutes?"

Tomas looked out the window longingly, obviously wishing to get some fresh air, but also aware that he would probably fall flat on his face at this point.

"Can we just open a window? It's... too hot in here."

"Sure. If you get cold, let me know." Marcus rolled down the window on his side, thankful for the slight breeze on his face. Tomas halfheartedly drank from the bottle.

"It won't be long now. I'll call Shelley once we reach the town and wake her up. Can you handle the seatbelt? I'd rather you put it on."

Tomas looked a bit surprised to see he didn't already have it on.

"I had to undo it. You got caught up in it during the nightmare."

Tomas muttered another apology under his breath and awkwardly struggled with the belt until Marcus took pity on him and clicked in the clasp. They were back on the road soon after, when Marcus noted Tomas' head jerking each time his eyes closed for more than a minute.

"You trying to stay awake?" he asked almost amusedly. The breeze and the colder air seemed to be doing its job at least for now and he was still riding the adrenaline high of the scare Tomas gave him just a moment ago.

"Don't want to dream," Tomas admitted a bit sheepishly.

"It was that bad, huh?" Marcus commented dryly. Tomas gave a shrug."Want to talk about it?"

"No. It was... it wasn't real." Tomas said this so forcefully that Marcus wondered who he was trying to convince. "Can you just... tell me a story?"

Tomas must've realized how childish it sounded; even before Marcus could ask what story he wanted to hear.

"I meant... just talk. Don't want to sleep now."

"Well, you're in luck then. I don't want to fall asleep either, seeing as I'm driving," Marcus said with a smirk and was happy when he saw a small smile tug on Tomas' lip in response.

"Let's see. Did I ever tell you about Sister Rachel and her accidentally starting a prank war in the boy's home?"

"You didn't," Tomas said, the smile on his face deepening.

"Well, get comfortable, because it's a long one." Marcus winked and started relating the story of a nun who just wanted to hide a batch of cookies and managed to start a prank war that ended with the principal of the home being locked in the attic for two straight days. By the time he finished that story, and then another one, Tomas seemed to be, if not relaxed, then at least a bit calmer and less on the edge. He was also still awake, albeit blinking owlishly as they passed the town's welcome sign and Marcus gave a short call to Shelley to let her know they would be arriving soon.

It was a little bit past four in the morning when Marcus finally pulled the car over in front of a regular looking two storey house. It had a nice picket fence and a garden with a swing. There was a sign swinging in the breeze, stating it was the office of Dr. Shelley Powers, general practitioner. All the neighboring houses were dark, but there was light coming from the ground level of the house where Marcus knew the office was.

Tomas had fallen silent a few minutes ago, though Marcus could see he wasn't asleep yet.

"We're here," he announced a bit unnecessarily. Tomas gave a small nod and started fiddling with his seatbelt. Marcus gave him a second then reached out, but Tomas growled at him.

"I can do it." It was clear that Tomas was feeling a bit apprehensive about this whole situation. Marcus knew the man well enough by now to know he wasn't fond of the medical profession and tried to avoid doctors at all costs. Hell, he signed out AMA after being hit on the head with a hammer, a little fact that Marcus had learned only once they were settled in a motel room.

"Hey, it's going to be fine. Shelley's something else," he said, trying to relax the young man, who finally managed to open the seatbelt. Tomas looked at him wearily and gave a small nod.

"Sorry," he mumbled, unsure why he'd even snapped before. Marcus nodded too and undid his own seatbelt. He was tempted to push the horn to let Shelley know they arrived despite it being the middle of the night, but the doctor was already walking out the door towards them. Marcus got out and met her in front of the car.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," he said as he gave her a quick embrace. Shelley wasn't much younger than Marcus himself, had white hair cut short and wore a pair of glasses that couldn't hide her expression of perpetual curiosity. She was also quite tall and despite her age seemed to be in good shape. Marcus was glad. It meant they would have an easier time helping Tomas inside the house.

"I would say the same, Marcus, but you look dreadful. Are you sure it isn't _you_ who needs my help?"

Marcus chuckled and turned his head towards the car. Tomas had opened the door and had one foot out already, but that was as far as he managed to get, before he got hit by dizziness. Marcus forgot all pleasantries and Shelley was also moving towards her newest patient, reaching him before he could topple out onto the sidewalk.

"Now where are you going, young man?" she asked even as she steadied his swaying form. Tomas looked up at her with slightly unfocused eyes and tried for a smile.

"Hello," he said. "I'm Tomas."

Shelley smiled, while her hand gently patted his face then took hold of his left wrist, fingers pushing against the pulse point.

"I'm Shelley. I see you have better manners than Marcus. His first words to me were a shouted Latin version of 'get lost, demon'."

Tomas couldn't help it; he snorted.

"He slammed me against the wall the first time."

"Oh, that means he likes you!" Shelley commented, ignoring the indignant snort from behind. Tomas grinned then leaned into her touch when she ran her fingers over his forehead.

"Well, I think as far as first meetings go, this one is top of my list. Let's get you inside and get you comfortable, hmm?"

As if just waiting for the word, Marcus slid in between them and wrapped Tomas's good arm around his shoulder.

"I can walk," Tomas protested but Marcus was way past listening to him.

"Sure, you can also drive, but that doesn't mean I'm letting you anywhere near the wheel," Marcus said, grunting as Tomas belied his own words and seemingly tripped over his own foot. Marcus took more of his weight, while Shelley flanked Tomas on the other side. Together they made it inside the house without taking a nosedive, though Marcus had to put up with Tomas stepping on his feet once or twice. Once inside, Marcus started towards where he knew the office was, but Shelley stopped him.

"Not there. Take him to the guest room."

Marcus frowned but followed her lead towards the room two doors down.

"I have patients scheduled in about five hours, Marcus. I doubt you want him in sight."

"Yeah, good thinking," Marcus admitted as they entered the guest room. While last time he was there the room had been welcoming and simple, now it looked like a quickly put together emergency room. The bed was the same as before, a comfortable double, but next to it were several monitors and machines and an IV stand. On the side was a metal table filled with several smaller covered trays. As an aside, there was a rather flimsy looking cot by the wall.

"You were up all night getting this ready?"

"Nah, I had this set up within the hour of your call. I spent the next few hours in silent contemplation of why the hell I didn't send you to the hospital."

"Because you're an angel in disguise," Marcus said, then grunted. The moment Tomas saw the bed, his legs gave out in relief and Marcus had to lug most of his weight towards it. Luckily it was just the last few steps and he could place Tomas not so gently on the bed.

Tomas let out a wistful moan and slumped right into the pillow, boneless. Shelley stepped next to him and gently tapped his face.

"Not so fast, champ. I'll need you awake for a bit longer. Come on, you need to sit up."

Tomas groaned and opened his eyes. In the glare of the light all he saw was the white hair and for a moment his mind slipped back into the past.

"Déjame dormir, abuela, por favor," he mumbled, trying to burrow back into the pillow despite a pair of hands trying to lift him up.

"What did he say?" Shelley spoke several languages, but Spanish wasn't one of them.

"He thought you were his grandmother," Marcus commented with a strange glint in his eyes. "He wants to sleep."

"Well, ain't he a charmer," she snorted, not taking offence at practically being called old, rather frowning at the obvious disorientation of her patient.

"I thought I was the charming one." Marcus helped Tomas sit up, despite his grumbled protest and lack of cooperation. "This one is more stubborn than anything."

"Good," Shelley said and did a quick job of extracting Tomas from his shirt while Marcus took off his shoes. "Stubborn is just what he needs to be right now, to get through this," she said to Marcus once she got a first proper look at the bandaged arm and the red streaks that were crawling up on the inside of Tomas' arm, towards the armpit.

"You can help him though, right?"

Shelley paused and looked at Marcus.

"I'll do my best, Marcus. But not gonna lie, a little bit of help from the man upstairs would be appreciated."

Marcus swallowed and gave a nod of understanding. Tomas opened his eyes, grimacing at the sudden loss of his shirt, his body shaking from the cold even though he was burning up.

"'s cold," he muttered and curled his good arm around his middle, trying to retain at least some heat. Shelley ran a hand over his forehead.

"It's just the fever. Let me do a quick exam and then I'll get you some blankets and leave you be for a much deserved sleep, okay?"

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tomas realized he was being placated, but he felt so miserable he didn't really care. So he just gave a pitiful nod and tried to cooperate as Shelley took his vitals, checked his temperature and pushed a clip on the top of his middle finger; a beeping filled the room. Tomas jumped at the sound and gave a grateful sigh when it was turned off quickly. He wasn't up to keeping track of everything that was going on around him, feeling just a bit too dizzy and muddled to follow the bustle, so he settled for the next best thing. He focused on Marcus and took cues from his facial expression. The first thing he noted was the frown etched deeply in his forehead, the worry filling his eyes and his unnatural stillness. Marcus was rarely still, always needing some tactile stimulus. Even when he was nervous, he walked around rooms and touched things or settled in the most ridiculous positions on the available furniture. Right now, though, he was just standing by the foot of the bed, looking like he was ready to bolt.

"Marcus?" Tomas didn't even realize he spoke, but he knew he couldn't let Marcus leave, not this time. Even if it was just to take a quick smoke outside... he needed him there, to feel safe. "No te vayas, por favor."

As if breaking some trance, Tomas's voice pulled Marcus back to reality. The older man's eyes focused on his face instead of following Shelley's movement.

"I'm not going anywhere, Tomas," he said and as if to prove the point, he sat on the edge of the bed, laying a hand on Tomas's ankle. He would've sat down right next to him, wishing to give him as much assurance as possible, but Shelley needed the space to work.

"Except maybe to take a shower, because seriously, you stink, Marcus," Shelley said, trying to break the tension. It worked as both men smiled. That was until she pulled up a tray with an IV set and took Tomas's good arm in her own. Tomas grimaced, the idea of having his good arm used as a pincushion and tethered to a line making him feel exposed and vulnerable to attack. It wasn't logical, but it was what Mouse's training had instilled in him. Still, Marcus was there and Tomas felt the reassuring squeeze of his hand on his leg. Tomas bore the procedure with barely a wince, feeling bad enough that the hope of some meds that actually worked overcame his inner protests. The fact that Shelley managed to hit a vein in his forearm on the first try and install the IV quickly also helped dissuade his apprehension. However, he couldn't help but balk when she unwrapped the bandage on his arm and said she would have to change the packing.

"Marcus already did that," Tomas protested and pulled the arm protectively to his chest, bending his knees as well, in the process pulling away from Marcus.

"I'm sorry dear, I know it's an uncomfortable process, but we will have to repeat it a few more times until you feel better," Shelley told him gently even as Tomas shook his head, eyes wide at the thought of going through the torture repeatedly. He knew he was acting ridiculous, but at the moment all he could think of was the pain. After all he'd been through in the last year, he just felt fed up with it all.

"Just... leave me alone," he said, part pleading, part demanding. Marcus was up on his feet and ready to step in, to talk some sense into him, when Shelley gave him a sign to wait a moment. She sat down and on the edge of the bed, her hand cupping Tomas's face, making sure he was looking right at her as she put on her most stern look.

"Father Tomas," she started in a no nonsense voice and Tomas jerked at the title, because it was the last thing he expected to hear there. "I know you're scared and sick of this, but I'll be frank with you. Right now, your situation doesn't look all that good. You're fighting a bad infection that might kill you. I tell it like it is," she added when Tomas' eyes widened and Marcus gave a sound of protest. "You are lucky Marcus did such a great job at patching you up and bringing you here. Now don't let it go to waste just because you're afraid. I need you fighting the infection, not me. God brought you here for a reason, after all."

At the mention of God, Tomas' face flushed red and he looked away, suddenly embarrassed.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I don't know why..." Tomas shook his head then winced. "I don't feel good."

Shelley's eyes softened and she rubbed Tomas's shoulder.

"I know. That's what I'm trying to fix, yeah?"

Tomas nodded and, as a sign of cooperation, held out his injured arm.

"Thank you," Shelley said with a smile then turned back to Marcus who was torn between pissed and grateful. "Now seeing as I'm missing my nurse, Marcus will have to do... why don't you come up here and give me a helping hand?"

Marcus looked a bit like a deer caught in the headlights but he quickly shook it off and moved closer to Tomas.

"As long as you won't ask me to put on a nurse's uniform, why not?"

Shelley's eyes glinted with humor.

"Why, I think Susan's skirt would look good on you."

Tomas' lips twitched as he listened to the banter. It helped to keep his mind at least a bit off what she was doing to his arm. Once the bandage was off and she started pulling out the gauze from the wound, Marcus grabbed Tomas's other hand and lightly squeezed, letting him silently know he could do the same if needed. Tomas took one look at the gauze soaked through with blood and other stuff and turned his head, blanching.

"Hey, you gonna puke?" Marcus asked, already holding up an empty basin. Tomas just closed his eyes and groaned, his fingers curling tight around Marcus's hand.

"Okay, first part is over," Shelley said after a moment and Tomas dared to breathe. "I'll just take a quick look." Shelley manipulated the limb softly, her gloved fingers touching the edges of the wound and sending sparks of pain up Tomas's arm. "Ease up that grip tiger, or I'll have to put Marcus's arm in a cast," she commented when Marcus took in a deeper breath, as Tomas squeezed his hand just a bit too tightly.

Tomas blinked his eyes open, instantly easing the grip, an apology on the tip of his tongue as he saw the grimace on Marcus's face.

"I still have my other hand," Marcus said with a smirk before Tomas could open his mouth.

"Which I could use right now," Shelley said and directed Marcus to hand her one of the trays on the table.

Tomas hoped the procedure would be less painful the second time around, but it wasn't the case.. The only thing that was better was the fact Shelley was quick, her movements sure and precise. The fact that Marcus wasn't causing the pain was also a relief, because Tomas didn't have to try and pretend it didn't hurt for his benefit. Still, by the time Shelley was done, Tomas was once again covered in sweat and shaking, eyes closed. Marcus, next to him, didn't look that much better.

Shelley stood up and took away all the used materials.

"Do you want something to eat or drink?" she asked Marcus softly on her way out, but he just shook his head. Food was the last thing on his mind right now. Shelley nodded and left the room. When she returned, she came with a basin of fresh water and a clean washcloth in one hand, a spare blanket in the other. She pushed the blanket into Marcus's arms and pointed towards the cot in the corner of the room.

"Go, get some sleep."

Marcus started to protest.

"I'm good. I won't leave him alone."

Shelley rolled her eyes.

"Don't be silly, I'm not sending you into another room. There's the bed, use it."

But Marcus just stubbornly grabbed one of the chairs in the room and settled into it next to Tomas's bed. Tomas was already almost asleep, as his slackened grip on Marcus' hand indicated. Shelley sighed, putting the basin with the washcloth down and giving Marcus an imploring look.

"Do you want to know how he's doing?"

Marcus nodded.

"He's not out of the woods yet, far from it. The next twenty-four hours will be critical. Either the antibiotics will work - or they won't." Shelley wasn't mincing words; she couldn't afford it, not in her profession. Marcus swallowed and nodded for her to continue.

"Ideally, he should be in ICU right now, but this is not an ideal situation. We still need to monitor him and check his vitals every fifteen mins. Now... I wasn't really expecting this kind of situation, so in about four hours I'll have to leave you alone to go tend to my scheduled patients. That means I will need you to be up and rested enough to keep an eye on him."

"You could've started with that you know," Marcus muttered, worried about what she told him but also understanding that she wasn't just trying to get him off her back.

"Hey, cut me some slack, I haven't slept that much either," Shelley said with a fond smile and nudged Marcus towards the cot. "Go. I think he'll be out like a light in a moment."

It might've been true, Marcus noted as he pulled his hand from Tomas's lax grip without protest. However, he barely made it towards the cot when Tomas muttered his name, a frown marring his face. Marcus was about to say "screw it" and go back to Tomas, but when he turned Shelley had already occupied his chair. She was making gentle shushing sounds and using the washcloth to clean the sweat from Tomas's face and upper body. Maybe her voice reminded Tomas of his abuela or Olivia, because he calmed down a bit, turning his head towards the touch. Marcus watched for a moment, torn between concern and relief, but in the end weariness won and he found himself lying down on the cot without conscious effort.

It seemed like it had only been a few minutes since he'd closed his eyes when Marcus heard his name being called and felt a hand shaking his shoulder. Groaning, and feeling each and every year of his life in the stiffness of his body, Marcus blinked and glared at the person who dared to interrupt his sleep.

He was a bit surprised to see the familiar face of Shelley and for a second he thought it was a different day and he was still just searching for himself, Tomas and Mouse off on some merry chase for demons while God forgot about Marcus's existence. But a soft moan brought him back to the present and he sat up quickly, his eyes focused on the figure on the nearby bed. He wanted to ask the time, but the first question from his mouth was: "How is he?"

"Holding his own, so far," Shelley looked like she could use a cup of coffee herself and Marcus's gut churned.

"What's wrong?"

"His fever is still holding and his vitals are a bit worrisome, though nothing unexpected. The antibiotics need some time to start working."

"He doesn't look comfortable," Marcus muttered as he made it across the room and settled on the edge of Tomas's bed. There was a cold washcloth on his forehead and a light blanket covered him, though Tomas seemed to be tossing around restlessly, getting his feet tangled up. Marcus laid a hand on his cheek, frowning at the warmth.

"Shouldn't we try to cool him off?"

Shelley shook her head.

"It's not that high yet and the temperature is helping to fight off the infection. The cool cloth is mostly for comfort right now. But we need to monitor his temp and vitals, so here," Shelley handed Marcus a chart and a pen, receiving a confused look."I'll show you how to take the vitals and I need you to write them down every fifteen minutes. If anything changes, you come and get me."

Marcus nodded and Shelley gave him a quick course in reading the machines and told him what numbers he should be looking out for. Marcus made a note on the side of the chart.

"Good. I'll have to go, I think I heard Susan's car. You remember how you made the hot compresses last night?"

"Yeah. He wasn't a big fan."

"I noticed," Shelley said with a smirk. "I did it once already, so let him sleep for a few hours, but you should repeat it around noon. If he wakes up, try and get him to drink some water as well. I doubt he'll be eating anything, but if he gets hungry, there's some broth you can heat up in the kitchen."

There was the sound of a door opening and closing, then footsteps in the hall.

"Shelley?" A woman's voice rang through the house and Shelley sighed then peeked out from behind the door.

"I'll be right there, Susan. There's coffee in the kitchen if you want."

Susan stood in the hallway, a puzzled look on her face.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes, just had a bit of an emergency last night. Nothing to worry about. Let me just finish here."

"You need any help?"

"Not yet, dear, but thanks for asking," Shelley smiled then slipped back into the room. Marcus was looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"You know I've already met your nurse and she'll realize we're here sooner or later?"

"Yes, but I also know that right now I'm doing something illegal. If Tomas takes a turn for the worse, I'm risking my license, Marcus."

Marcus blanched, words of apology on his tongue, but Shelley stopped him with a raised hand and a shake of a head.

"I'm not saying this out of anger. I let you come here because I know how precarious your situation is and I want to help. But that's my decision to make. If I let Susan know, she will be liable too and I can't do that to her. She is a good nurse and doesn't need to tarnish her record. So until Tomas is out of the woods... it's just you in the guest room. Understood?"

There was really not that much to think about, so Marcus simply nodded. Shelley let out a sigh, made one last check on her patient's vitals and headed out of the room. She was by the door when Marcus's voice stopped her.

"Shelley?"

She turned.

"Thank you. I... you don't know how important he is to me... to all of us."

Shelley gave him a fond look and Marcus found himself feeling immensely lucky that God had brought this woman into his life several months ago.

"Let's make sure he pulls through then, shall we?"

"Yes... let's," Marcus said and when the door closed behind her, Marcus settled down into the chair. Tomas was still tossing around restlessly, so he reached out and took his good hand in his. He felt the fingers curl slightly around his own and he gave the hand a reassuring squeeze back. Tomas seemed to relax a bit and Marcus started softly reciting the prayer of healing.

 

* * *

 

Time seemed to pass in strange episodes. Tomas was mostly aware of how uncomfortable his body felt, even while sleeping; he felt the unease, the crawling heat under his skin and the general unrest when the brain knew something was wrong with the body. He never really hit that deep state of sleep that allowed his mind to turn off completely. He heard the familiar voice talking softly, even though the words lost their meaning somewhere along the way. Tomas didn't mind. Just the cadence and tone of the voice made him feel a bit safer, calmer. Someone was there by his side, someone who cared. As long as he heard the voice, felt the touch on his arm or fingers running gently over his forehead and hair, Tomas could rest, however fitfully.

It was worse when the other voice joined in though, as it usually meant more pain. Every touch to his injured arm sent spikes of pain through his body and brain. Sometimes Tomas managed to wake up, to open his eyes to the glare of the bedside lamp only to feel burning heat seeping into his arm when the bandage was changed or the hot compresses applied. He protested at first, tried to pull away from the pain, but Marcus was there, always a calming and reassuring presence. He begged him to stay still, to just work through the pain and promised it to be over soon, that he would be able to get back to sleep in just a moment.

Tomas always relented, even if it brought tears to his eyes and he gritted his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. The reward was a fresh cold washcloth on his fevered brow, a soothing hand on his face or shoulder and a prayer pushing back the darkness and lulling him back to sleep.

Somehow, Tomas reveled in those moments. Not the pain or the shame of tears, but the steady presence by his side, the reassurance that someone was there for him even during his worst moments. Despite everything, it made him feel safe for the first time since Marcus's departure.

Tomas didn't always know what was going on. He often opened his eyes to see Marcus sitting in a chair by his bed, a pencil in his hand absentmindedly drawing pictures on the edges of a clipboard. Sometimes he noticed Tomas watching him and he always rewarded him with a reassuring smile and a kind word, asking if he needed anything. Tomas usually shook his head and closed his eyes, too tired to even voice how miserable he felt or how thankful. Sometimes, Marcus didn't notice that he was awake and Tomas could observe his friend's face, marked by deep worry lines and weariness beyond his years. Tomas wanted to reach out then, to be the one to provide some reassurance, but he never found the energy to so much as raise his hand. During those times, Tomas fell into a sleep that was filled with the nightmarish scapes of a desert, with dark skies and burning sand. Wherever he went, Tomas always encountered the fire that was burning through his body, eating at his skin. But even though it was terrifying and painful, it wasn't the worst thing. No, the thing that scared Tomas the worst was the fact he was totally alone in a place that was burning down to dust. All he could hear was the roaring of the fire, loud and deep, as if God himself was sending flames and brimstone down on Tomas's head.

Those were the moments when Tomas prayed and pleaded with God to forgive all his sins, to stop this madness, to have mercy on his soul and forgive his transgressions, or to smite him. Anything but to condemn him to this lonely existence on the edge of purgatory.

There was a moment when it all felt too much, too overwhelming, and Tomas felt his chest constrict in panic, the breath leaving his body, the burning sand around him raising and descending on him with brutal force. Tomas opened his mouth to scream but he couldn't... all the air was sucked away and for a second Tomas thought he was back in Andy's mind, letting the demon take him. For that second Tomas truly thought he was dying, though there wasn't that slick _wrongness_ of the demon, just emptiness and loneliness. It scared Tomas more than anything.

"Marcus!" he managed to force through his lips with the last of his strength before the burning sand covered every inch of his body like a death shroud.

"Tomas?" A voice broke through the crust, opening a crack in it, a piece of sand breaking off. Tomas felt hope swell in his chest and forced his muscles to work, to move towards the voice.

"I'm here, Tomas. No te rindas, mi hermano."

The words were like a cooling rain; they washed the sand off Tomas and let him breathe.

"Keep fighting, Tomas." The voice sounded even closer now and Tomas could see a crack of lightning split the sky and there was rain, putting out the fires all around him. As the heavy rain drops hit the sand, it hissed, and there was steam rising from it, engulfing the whole plane. But Tomas didn't panic this time, because he could still hear the voice. He followed the soothing and encouraging words blindly through the steam, until everything blended together and he was surrounded only by peaceful darkness.

 

* * *

 

It was the end of the second day when Tomas's fever finally broke and Shelley proclaimed that Marcus's prayers just might've been heard. Marcus thought it was high time, because he himself felt on the verge of collapse. He'd barely slept at all, despite Shelley's attempts to get him to rest on the nearby cot. Tomas somehow seemed to sense when Marcus moved away and he grew restless, his nightmares striking with a vengeance if the muttering and grimaces were anything to go by. After the first two times Marcus gave up on the idea of the cot and just rested his head on the edge of the bed, his hand always close to Tomas's. Shelley gave up quickly enough, knowing that it was just a matter of hours really, maybe a day or two. Either the antibiotics would work, or Tomas would be beyond help.

Luckily, after a terrifying moment when Tomas actually stopped breathing for a second, his whole body tensing on the bed as if in a middle of a fit, something changed. Marcus was by his partner's side, whispering into his ear words Shelley couldn't discern, while he was dabbing a cold washcloth on Tomas's face and neck, trying to cool him down. To Shelley's relief, it worked.

Soon after, Tomas's fever broke and his numbers returned to levels that didn't make Shelley want to call an ambulance. When Tomas opened his eyes and actually managed to ask for water before falling back asleep, Marcus seemed to melt into the chair with relief. Shelley patted him on the shoulder and handed him a cup of tea.

"Looks like all the praying might've worked after all."

"He's out of the woods?" Marcus looked up with hope. Shelley grimaced, not wanting to give false promises.

"We shall see. There's still a lot of things that can go wrong, but..." she smiled. "He has a much better chance now than he had yesterday."

Marcus took her words at face value and sent a prayer of thanks upstairs, along with a request for a speedy recovery. And preferably no cases looming in their near future, not before Tomas was back on his feet. Maybe once Tomas felt better, they could finally talk things out. Marcus realized it was time to clear the air and start afresh, before someone paid the price for their foolish stubbornness.

 

* * *

 

It was on the fourth day that Tomas woke up feeling a little bit more human. It was also the first time he was alone in the room and there was a flash of panic, but that quickly passed into relief. Tomas didn't remember much since they'd arrived to Shelley's place, but he was aware that Marcus had been by his side every time he opened his eyes. It was a reassuring presence and Tomas drew strength from it, but lately it was also tiring. Once Tomas's fever broke and his mind cleared up a bit, he realized that Marcus had seen him at his worst. The fading bruise on Marcus's face was a vivid reminder that Tomas wasn't thinking clearly and had let things slip, things he wanted to bury deep inside. Instead, he blubbered and whimpered like a baby when Marcus just tried to help him. Tomas felt ashamed. But he also felt concern upon seeing the weary look on his partner's face, or the flinch or grimace when Tomas let out a gasp of pain.

Marcus was concerned about him and while it warmed Tomas's heart, he didn't want to be the cause of Marcus's concern. Not for something that was caused by his own stupidity and recklessness. So when he could, he bit down the gasp of pain and tried to pretend he didn't feel as miserable as he did. Marcus seemed to know the game he was playing, but didn't say anything and Tomas kept on. But it was tiring and finding the room empty more often in the last few days seemed like a blessing.

Tomas moved around on the bed, grimacing and trying to find a more comfortable position. He took a look at his arm, peeking carefully under light bandage. Still seeing the gauze and the red gaping wound, Tomas wished he hadn't looked. But at least the red streaks on his arm seemed to be vanishing. He looked around the room and noted the time on the clock. Five pm, but it was still light outside. He had a sudden notion of going outside, to feel the fresh breeze on his face, to leave this stuffy room. Of course he knew that was hardly possible. He was still stuck with the IV and, if memory served, the last time he had to use the bathroom he had still needed Marcus's help to make it there. Tomas felt the blush creep onto his face. He hated being so weak that he couldn't even make it across the room. Tomas knew pride was a sin, but he'd always prided himself on his healthy and working body. He took proper care of it and to be let down in such a way was more than humiliating. Thinking about the bathroom however made him realize what was the real cause of his waking up. And with that realization came a pressing need.

"Damn." There was no one around and while Tomas was sure that if he called out Shelley or Marcus would be there, he was hesitant. After all, last time Marcus needed to support him only a little and he was feeling stronger now. Biting his lip, Tomas looked up at the IV still attached to his arm. All he had to do was grab the stand and shuffle several steps to the bathroom. It was not a big deal, and definitely not something to call help for. Coming to a decision, Tomas sat up on the edge of the bed, letting his feet touch the ground. He gave himself a few seconds to catch his breath and to stop the room from spinning, then looked towards the door.

He could hear some rustling from the hall, but it was far enough. He waited with bated breath, expecting someone to open the door any moment and give him a scolding, but nothing happened and Tomas giggled, suddenly feeling like a schoolboy trying to sneak past a teacher. Taking hold of the IV stand and using it as support while getting to his feet, however, chased away all mirth. For some reason Tomas felt like a newborn kitten and there was a thought that maybe he should actually wait for assistance, rather than risk taking a header, but Tomas was nothing if not stubborn. He needed to show himself if no one else that he could do it, so he took one step, then another. Shuffling like an old man and cursing the demon that caused all this to begin with, Tomas slowly but surely made it to the bathroom. He felt such immense relief once he finished his business that for a moment he ignored the dark dots that appeared on the side of his vision.

His body, however, couldn't ignore them and Tomas realized he might've overdone it just a bit when the room swirled and he found himself leaning against the wall, slowly sliding down, the IV stand precariously wobbling until it settled. Tomas felt an uncomfortable tug at his arm but the line was long enough not to be ripped out of his arm. Tomas thanked heaven for small mercies, leaned his head against the wall and waited, knowing there was no way he was getting up by himself.

It was maybe five minutes later that the door opened and Shelley walked in with a food tray. She paused at the door, noting the empty bed and let out a soft curse when she noted Tomas on the floor. She quickly put the tray down on the table.

"I'm fine," Tomas muttered, red staining his cheeks as he saw her almost spilling the contents of the tray in her haste to get to him. It didn't slow her down, but when she kneeled next to him, the panic was gone from her eyes.

"I should've known," she muttered even as her eyes gave him a cursory once over, while she checked if the IV was still in place. "First time I manage to make Marcus leave the room and you decide to take a walk."

"Sorry. I... needed the bathroom."

She raised an eyebrow, her hand running over his cheek and forehead checking for fever.

"And? Do you still need to use it? Or were you just too bored with the good old bed and decided to change the locale?"

Tomas snorted then shook his head.

"Was on my way back," he said, feeling surprisingly good about even such a small accomplishment. Shelley smiled.

"Good. Now how do you feel about making it all the way back?"

Tomas grimaced and gave Shelley a dubious look.

"I might... need a bit of help," he admitted with a sigh.

"Yes, I assume you would've been back to bed already pretending there was no unsanctioned trip at all if you didn't need a bit of help."

Tomas didn't deem it necessary to comment on that and Shelley chuckled.

"Okay, let's get you to bed before Marcus decides to check in and finds you on the floor. I never thought he could turn into such a mother hen, but then, I saw how he was when you two were separated."

Tomas blinked, taken aback by the statement.

"How he was?" he repeated a bit dumbly, while Shelley took hold of his good arm and the IV and slowly helped him up into a standing position. Tomas wobbled a bit, but Shelley was stronger than she looked and she had no trouble taking most of his weight.

"I'm not sure it's my place to talk about Marcus," Shelley noted hesitantly even as she was helping Tomas settle back on the bed.

"It's not like he would tell me anything," Tomas grumbled, then hissed when he moved his arm carelessly and the wound gave him a painful reminder.

Shelley raised an eyebrow then shook her head.

"You're both too stubborn for your own good." She proceeded to take the food tray from the table and put it on Tomas's lap.

"Do you feel like eating something?"

Tomas really didn't. Even though he could feel his empty stomach grumbling, he also felt slightly sick. Swallowing, he shook his head, but Shelley didn't take away the tray.

"Nauseous?"

Tomas gave a slight nod.

"A bit of food may actually help with that. Here, try the broth. Homemade... ten out of ten doctors would swear on it."

Tomas's lip quirked in a hint of a smile. He liked Shelley, even though almost all his encounters with her so far involved something uncomfortable or even painful. But he could hardly fault her for that. So when she pushed the cup with the broth towards his good arm, he actually wrapped his fingers around it, enjoying the warmth. A bit hesitantly, he raised the cup and took a small sip.

Shelley eased back into the chair, looking smug, so Tomas decided it was a good time to start asking questions.

"How... how did you even meet Marcus?" he began, innocently enough, but with a goal in mind. Shelley gave him a look that clearly said she was onto him, but the small smile on her face told Tomas she was willing to play the game.

"We already talked about that, Tomas," she said and Tomas frowned, trying to remember, but coming up empty handed.

"I'm sorry, it's... the last few days are hazy."

"Fair enough." Shelley nodded and repeated the story about waking up a grumpy Marcus on a park bench and being almost exorcised in the process. The image made Tomas almost choke on the soup he was currently sipping, especially as he could just see the unimpressed look on Shelley's face.

"When was that?"

"About... six or seven months ago, I think. It was definitely getting a bit too chilly to stay outside during the night."

Tomas realized it must've been two or three months after Marcus left and his heart twitched, the soup suddenly threatening a comeback. He carefully put the half empty cup back down, earning a raised eyebrow from Shelley.

"Later," he shook his head.

"What... how did you become friends after?" he asked, his voice a bit choked even as Shelley put the tray back on the table, looking less than satisfied. But she didn't leave; instead she seemed to make herself more comfortable in the chair, grabbing the cup of coffee Tomas hadn't noticed until now.

"Once he realized I wasn't a threat, Marcus profusely apologized. And I wanted to make sure he wouldn't just fall back asleep and succumb to hypothermia, so I invited him for coffee. Not sure if you know it, but the man would do anything for a proper coffee."

Tomas had to smile at that because it was definitely true.

"You weren't scared of him?"

Shelley raised an eyebrow and Tomas could see the steel in her eyes.

"Do I look like I scare easily?"

Tomas shook his head.

"Anyway, once I had him hooked on my freshly ground Colombian coffee, we had a nice talk and he was on his merry way."

Tomas blinked, wondering if he hadn't just spaced out for a minute and missed most of the story.

"What?"

Shelley chuckled, obviously enjoying the conversation, however sparse it might've been.

"Where did he go?" Tomas asked after a moment.

"That's what I was wondering too. So of course, next morning I went for an early walk through the park and lo and behold, who did I find on the same bench."

"I don't understand. What... what was Marcus thinking?" Tomas was confused and more than a bit startled. He thought Marcus knew what he was doing when he left... that the older man had a plan or at least a goal. Maybe he'd have gone back to Peter as the demon insinuated, or he found an odd job here and there, trying to find his footing. But Tomas never imagined Marcus letting himself go enough to sleep on the bench in a park if it wasn't just a short stop between jobs. He never imagined that Marcus might've been lost during those six months.

"I don't think he was actually homeless," Shelley said, as if reading his thoughts. "Though I admit, he seemed a bit lost for a moment."

"I don't understand." Tomas sighed and ran a hand over his face, feeling his weariness creeping back. Even though he thought it was bad manners, he slid down in the bed then turned to lie on his side, still facing the doctor. Shelley nodded in approval, just reached out to help him straighten the IV line and to hand him a small pillow to put under his other arm. Tomas mouthed quiet thanks, cursing himself for the weakness. He'd been awake only a short while, yet his eyes were already slipping closed.

"Rest, we can talk later."

"I've slept all day," Tomas grumbled, his eyes popping open unhappily.

"And you'll sleep through a few more, Tomas. Your body went through a lot, don't push it."

"Mm hmm... wanna hear about Marcus," Tomas protested and Shelley chuckled, sitting back in the chair and taking a sip of the coffee.

"There's not much to tell, really. I invited him for another coffee. After a talk we realized Marcus desperately needed something to do, to get his mind off things, and I needed help fixing some stuff around the house."

"So you let a stranger crash on your couch?" Tomas wondered out loud and Shelley laughed.

"Way I heard it, you did the same thing, Father Tomas," she replied with a wink and Tomas stayed speechless. Did Marcus talk to this woman about him? About what they did and what was going on?

"How do you know about it?" he asked in slight disbelief.

"Simple. We talked. Which is obviously what you two need to do."

Tomas wanted to ask more. He wanted to know if Marcus had told her demons were real, if he'd told her about exorcism, about Tomas messing up... if he'd told her why he left. But all he could do was yawn, his eyes slipping closed even as there was an unhappy frown on his face.

"Don't worry about it now, Tomas. Get some sleep. You'll have plenty of time to talk this out later." Shelley said, patting his leg soothingly then adjusted the blanket around him. Tomas wanted to protest that he could do it himself, but he found his energy lacking.

"Where's Marcus?" he asked quietly, heavy lidded but Shelley seemed to understand.

"Upstairs, sleeping in a proper bed for once. That cot did him no favors and I was getting tired of listening to his bones creaking. Now stop fighting and get some sleep too. I'll at least catch up on some reading."

Tomas heard the rustle of paper and peeled open an eye he didn't know was closed to see Shelley flipping through a thick magazine.

"If you're feeling better, tomorrow I might even tell you a story about how Marcus saved my cat from a deranged patient," she threw in and all Tomas could think of was Marcus with a cat before sleep took him over.

 

* * *

 

The recovery from something that started as a simple cut was anything but simple in Tomas's mind and he swore to never again neglect an injury and let it go to such an extreme. Not if he could help it. Not even if it meant admitting weakness. Because Tomas's pride definitely wasn't worth the pain and the hassle involved.

While it gave him the chance to finally get some rest... it seemed like even God understood Tomas was on the verge of breaking and now was not the time to send him images of demons and suffering people. Tomas didn't mind that part of his forced recuperation. He might've protested the constant fussing from Marcus though. At one point it went so far that even Shelley raised an amused eyebrow when Tomas sneezed and Marcus's hand went straight to his forehead, checking for fever. Tomas's mortified look and the doctor's chuckle made Marcus realize he might be overcompensating a bit and with a huff he swore to leave Tomas be. He managed for about three hours while helping out around the house, fixing a broken step in Shelley's attic. Then he was back to asking Tomas if he needed something, until Tomas finally snapped and told him he wasn't a damn invalid.

That had been a day ago and Marcus had finally seemed to come to the conclusion that if Tomas could be snappy with him and throw pillows, he probably wasn't in danger of dying anytime soon.

Finally, after a whole week spent mostly asleep or fidgeting on the bed, Tomas was free of the IV and started to feel like a human again. He was still weak and Shelley warned him it would take a few more weeks before his energy levels returned to normal and he could once again go for a five mile morning run without feeling like dying. The use of his arm would be compromised for much longer, and even though it didn't make Tomas happy, he could live with that. It wasn't like he needed to aim a gun at anyone and the demons didn't care if the crucifix in his hand shook with the strength of his conviction or with muscle damage.

The evening of the eight day, Shelley was called off to an emergency with one of her patients, leaving the two men alone. Tomas was feeling just good enough to be bored out of his mind and the fresh air coming from a slightly open window made him want more. It was already dark outside.. Tomas didn't know where Marcus was... the last he had seen of Marcus was about an hour ago, when he was still working in Shelley's office, creating an elaborate painting on her wall. That had been Shelley's idea actually. A way they could repay her for her services as well as keep Marcus partially busy while Tomas recuperated. Shelley knew from previous experience that a bored Marcus meant trouble, so as soon as Tomas stopped needing twenty-four-seven monitoring, she hinted that her office could use a new look. Marcus jumped at the idea with such vigor that Tomas almost felt offended... but only almost. In fact he was grateful for a chance to get a few hours of time for himself. He needed to think and it was hard to do under the watchful eyes of his partner.

Right now, though, Tomas had had enough of silent contemplation and wished for two things: fresh air on his face and Marcus's company. Well, maybe three things... he wouldn't say no to something cold to drink either. With a groan, still feeling weak but also stiff from laying around too much, Tomas got out of bed. At least he had managed a shower earlier that day and he felt almost human. He walked slowly out of the room, into the dark hall. He knew the house well enough by now not to bump into the furniture, but he really didn't expect Shelley's cat to be right underfoot.

There was an offended meow as his foot brushed something soft and Tomas paused, waving his arms a bit to catch his balance while trying not to step on the cat. He was also trying to will his heart to slow down from the sudden scare.

"Damn, what are you doing here?" he asked, reluctant to call the cat by its name. When he learned Shelley had christened the cat Tom he couldn't hide his groan, while Marcus gave a hearty chuckle. Of course Marcus would save a cat called Tom while Tomas was off on his adventures with Mouse. The irony of it made Tomas pause, then wave off the whole thing as God's way of making a joke.

Of course, to make matters worse, Marcus didn't call the cat anything other than Tomas, to Shelley's glee. Tomas just glared and decided then and there that he was more of a dog person. That was until one day Tom settled on his lap and started purring while Tomas hesitantly scratched his back.

Now Tom the cat gave another offended meow and with a flick of his tail against Tomas's leg headed towards the cat flap in the back door. Tomas followed him, having the same goal in mind. He was a bit surprised to encounter Marcus already sitting on the porch, a clove cigarette burning in his hand as he stared into the darkness.

"What're you doing here, Tomas?" Marcus asked and for a moment Tomas paused, wondering how the man knew he was there before he realized the cat was nudging against Marcus's free hand.

"I really think there should be a law against naming pets after people," Tomas spoke, amused when Marcus looked up, startled.

"Ah, but where would be the fun in that?" Marcus quickly recovered with a smile.

Tomas shrugged and made to sit down on the step next to Marcus. He wrinkled his nose at the cigarette smoke. Marcus took one deep pull and let out a puff of smoke, then promptly put it out. The cat gave a satisfied meow, then with another flick of his tail vanished into the darkness, going for an evening perusal of his territory. Tomas envied that freedom and lack of care about the world.

"I would offer you a beer, but Shelley would probably kill me." Marcus pointed towards the half empty bottle that was resting next to his leg. Tomas shrugged.

"I don't think it would go well with the meds," he said and leaned against the banister, taking in a deep breath, trying to ignore the lingering smell of clove in the air while thinking about how to broach the topic that was on his mind. It wasn't like they hadn't talked in the last few days. On the contrary, as Marcus spent his time tending to Tomas he found himself speaking more and more about the time they were apart. In return, Tomas shared some of his own trials and tribulations... the fever making him more open with his own emotions. Some air was already cleared as they both understood that the time spent apart wasn't easy for either of them but that it had possibly been needed. Still, there were things Tomas couldn't stop thinking about. Here under the darkness of the stars, he felt finally comfortable enough to speak of them.

"Why were you so angry with me earlier?" he asked and Marcus blinked.

"We weren't exactly on the same page these last few weeks. Care to elaborate?"

"At the garage. When I pushed you out of the way."

"I wasn't angry. I was just... startled. And worried." Marcus shrugged. "I don't really like you risking your life for me, Tomas."

Tomas frowned then shook his head.

"You were angry... you kept snapping at me in the car later."

Marcus gave him a look as if saying "Can you really blame me?" Then he shrugged, taking a sip of the beer.

"I was angry because you decided to do your thing, even though we agreed on not doing it."

"We didn't exactly agree on that," Tomas argued. It had been more like Marcus decided and Tomas just decided not to argue about for once. But then he realized what was really the matter... that Marcus usually hid his fear behind anger.

"Why are you so afraid? I've been doing it long enough."

"You can never know if the demon is too strong, Tomas. I... I don't want a repeat of what happened with Andy. I don't have a gun and I don't want one."

"It was different with Andy," Tomas said. "I felt guilt, and the demon used that."

"Guilt about what?"

"Harper, for starters. About letting the demon inside my head at the house... about letting Andy escape. That's when he killed the neighbors... most of all, guilt that I let the demon deceive me with such a simple thing..."

"What did he show you?" Marcus had wondered what it was that the demon used to lure Tomas..

"Approval," Tomas said so quietly Marcus barely heard. "That's all I ever wanted. To be told I'm good enough for those I love to stay."

Marcus felt his stomach turn, suddenly understanding much better Tomas's reluctance to show weakness, his willingness to continue despite feeling near the end of his strength. And the thought of how he must've felt when Marcus just up and left him.

"I'm sorry, Tomas," Marcus said, his voice sincere and filled with regret.

Tomas frowned, not sure what the apology was for, until he saw the look on Marcus's face. It was the first time Marcus had apologized for leaving and Tomas didn't know what to do with it. He wanted to say everything was forgiven, he wanted to ask for forgiveness himself for messing up and causing Marcus to leave, but his feelings were too jumbled.

"I... you don't have to," he said finally, running a weary hand over his face. This was harder than he'd imagined. "It was my fault. Andy... and then Mouse. I... I should've been more careful. Should've known we were heading into another trap."

Marcus laid a hand on Tomas's knee and gave him a supportive squeeze. They sat in silence for several minutes, Marcus taking a sip of his beer and Tomas staring into the darkness, looking for a pair of shining cat eyes but coming up empty. He didn't want to think about Mouse or what had happened to her. He didn't want to think about what she'd taught him to do or how they operated, but he had to make Marcus understand that things had changed.

"I know you don't trust me... or what I do now. But I'm careful. What happened to Andy... it was different. I won't let that happen again."

Marcus shook his head.

"I'm not Mouse, Tomas. I can't take that risk, because I'm not ready to kill a possessed person again... I don't want to. But I would, if it meant saving you and that still scares me to death. So each time you go in, I pray that I won't have to add another sin to my soul."

"I'm sorry Marcus. I can't promise anything, but... I'm doing my best."

"I know. But sometimes it isn't enough and the outcome scares me. So the less you go in, the happier I am. Last week... I knew you were off your game. I could see you were exhausted; we were doing one exorcism after another. Hell, I was tired of it all, and I didn't have to delve into the mind of a demon. So when you jumped in after being hurt... yeah, I was angry. I still am, because that was reckless as hell."

"We didn't really have the time to keep going the old way," Tomas protested half heartedly, unsure why he was even arguing.

"You didn't know that at the time though," Marcus pointed out then sighed. He didn't want to get into another tiff about this; they were over it already. Tomas seemed to agree, but then he still looked like there was a question weighing heavily on his mind. So Marcus nudged his knee and raised an eyebrow.

"Ask," he said simply and Tomas did.

"Why did you leave me with Mouse if you knew what would happen?"

Marcus paused, unsure how to answer, but Tomas wasn't finished yet.

"You knew she thought me to be a weapon... you knew she was willing to kill."

Marcus swallowed then shook his head in regret.

"I thought she would protect you. Beyond that... I didn't have a clue, Tomas. I... my head wasn't in the right place, you must understand. I didn't think she would be willing to go so far with you... or that you'd allow it."

And that last comment was just what cut Tomas the deepest. He pulled away, ignoring the look of regret on Marcus face. All he could feel was guilt and a bit of rage... at himself, at Mouse and at Marcus.

"It's not like I knew what was going to happen. The first time she did it... I was still inside the mind of the possessed. I still had the chance... I knew there was a chance to bring her back. But there were people... Bennett's people had found us and there was a fight. Mouse couldn't bring me out of it to get away... so she shot her. I... I didn't realize what really happened until we were already in the car."

Marcus looked at Tomas, horrified by what he heard, sick with the thought of Tomas... his innocent Tomas, the one who was giving homilies and laughing at stupid jokes and being the best uncle to Luis... that Tomas was exposed to all of this. For a moment he wished to turn back time, to just refuse Tomas's request to become an exorcist. But that was just a fleeting second, because Marcus knew it wouldn't have saved Tomas from his fate. The demons already had their eyes set on him and God himself made sure they met.

"I... I'm sorry, Tomas. I didn't mean..."

Tomas shook his head.

"You are right. I should've stopped her right then and there... but I really couldn't. I was too scared... to leave her to her own devices. I was hoping I could somehow stop that madness... to change how she worked. And for a while I managed. But I was also scared of staying alone, because what then? I couldn't return home, not unless I wanted to endanger Olivia and Luis. I am not a soldier; I am not capable of shooting someone even in self defense. At least... I didn't think so. The visions were persistent and I couldn't... I just couldn't do it alone. I still can't." And that was the thing that made Tomas react the way he did these last few weeks... the fear that Marcus would leave him again.

Marcus closed his eyes, feeling the weight of Tomas's look, the weight of the responsibility on his shoulders. The need to say "I promise I won't leave again". The knowledge that Tomas simply wouldn't believe it, because he already said that once and then left. But he also felt the warmth of God's light coursing through his veins, through his heart. He reached out, putting his hand on the nape of Tomas's neck and was thankful the younger man didn't flinch or pull away. Instead he looked him straight in the eyes.

"You don't have to pretend you're alright for me to stay, Tomas. You don't have to try to be perfect or infallible. I know my promises might sound empty to you, but I swear by God... I'm sticking around this time."

Marcus gave a light squeeze and sent a prayer of thanks when Tomas gave a slow nod, accepting his promise.

They sat there in silence afterwards, just enjoying the night air, trying to make peace with everything that was said or left unsaid. It was Tomas who broke the silence.

"What now?" he asked and Marcus knew he didn't mean the next minute or hour. He shrugged.

"Now we regroup as we should've done the first time. I'll finish painting that room and you'll rest up, doing nothing but looking pretty," Marcus said with a smirk and Tomas felt crimson creep into his cheeks.

"When you get back on your feet, we will head to wherever God will lead us and kick some demon ass."

Tomas couldn't find anything to argue about in that.

**The End**


End file.
